The Casskins Pillow Book, Volume 1
by Jenksel
Summary: A random series of headcanons in the form of ficlets, one-shots, drabble and PWP's that aren't necessarily related to each other or to any other stories, all focusing on Casskins and their relationship. I plan to update regularly.
1. The Golden Hour

Chapter One: The Golden Hour

Cassandra Cillian rolled off of the top of Jenkins and snuggled up to him in the huge, antique bed that they shared more nights than not. It had been a bit chilly in the room when they first climbed into bed, but, as so often happened now, the two lovebirds soon ended up generating plenty of heat on their own.

"My god, woman," panted the older man as he wrapped his arm around her affectionately. "Why is it I can't seem to get enough of you?" He gently kissed her forehead as his breathing returned to normal. "If I didn't know better, I would swear that you're a sorceress and you've cast some sort of enchantment on me!"

Cassandra snickered and said playfully, "Remember what Eve told us about those alternate universes she saw when the Loom of Fate was damaged? I WAS a sorceress in one of them!" She pursed her lips in thought for a moment. "Though Eve never mentioned anything about seeing any Jenkinses…"

The Caretaker sighed dramatically. "Ah, doubtless that poor Jenkins is chained—naked—to Sorceress Librarian Cassandra's bed, and spends his days as nothing more than her sexual plaything."

"You make that sound like a BAD thing!" pouted the redhead.

Jenkins chuckled. "Well, I CAN certainly think of worse fates."

They lay together quietly for several minutes, just being with each other. The time after they finished making love was Cassandra's favorite with Jenkins (outside of the sex itself, of course); she privately thought of it as 'The Golden Hour'. After their physical relationship began, the Librarian quickly learned that a post-coital Jenkins was a much more talkative Jenkins, willing to answer questions and to tell her things about himself that he would be reluctant to do any other time. He was always relaxed and happy after sex, and she wasted not a single minute in taking advantage of The Golden Hour.

This evening she ran her fingers idly over the immortal's chest and stomach. As she followed her fingers with her eyes, they fell on the tattoo of a highly-stylized bird in flight, done in dark blue, on the front of his lower left abdomen, just inside the hipbone. It looked vaguely celtic-ish to her, and she had always wondered about it. She decided now was as good a time as any to ask.

Moving her hand to the tattoo, she began to trace its outlines with her finger. "What's this a tattoo of?"

Jenkins smiled to himself. _So this is tonight's topic_ , he thought. The astute Caretaker had long ago guessed what Cassandra was up to with her flurry of after-sex questions, but he kept the knowledge to himself. He was genuinely happy to answer her queries and talk about his past. It was understood that whatever was said in the privacy of this time would stay between them. For Jenkins, it was his opportunity to bond with his Librarian in a special, intimate way (outside of the sex itself, of course).

He took the hand tracing his tattoo and kissed it. "It's a falcon."

"Why a falcon?" asked the redhead curiously.

"Two reasons," began the immortal. "Though one reason is a little dark."

"Now I'm REALLY curious!" Cassandra laughed.

"Very well, then," Jenkins said indulgently. "I received it just after I was knighted. It's for the purpose of identification, rather like dog tags today in the military. Many of the ancient Celtic tribes had the habit of taking the heads of those they killed in battle. King Arthur wanted a way to identify any of his men who were killed, but whose heads had been taken."

Cassandra stared at him in disbelief. "You're making that up!" she accused.

"It's all true, I'm sorry to say," he said somberly. She was quiet for a bit, letting the gruesome bit of information sink in before speaking again

"So you chose a falcon, or was it assigned to you?"

Jenkins leaned over and murmured into her ear. "Shall I tell you a secret?" he asked mysteriously.

"What secret?" she asked eagerly.

"My _real_ name."

Cassandra blinked in surprise, leaned back so she could see his face. "Your name isn't really 'Galahad'?"

"Oh, yes, that IS my name," he said. "At least, that's how it's pronounced NOW." He adjusted his position so that Cassandra could comfortably rest her head on his right shoulder.

"So how is it _supposed_ to be pronounced?" she asked inquisitively.

"Gwalchafad."

"What?!" Cassandra squeaked as she craned her neck to look up into Jenkins's face, trying to see if he was teasing her. But he only repeated the strange-sounding name.

She tried to pronounce it, but mangled it badly. The 'ch' was like the gutteral 'ch' sound in German, and she had difficulty reproducing it. The awkward name kept coming out sounding like 'GWALK-huh-fahd' rather than the lilting "Gu-alch-HA-vad" as Jenkins pronounced it. He coached her through it several times before she finally had it.

"Ugh, no wonder it got changed to 'Galahad'! That's a mouthful!" she said.

"Only to your clumsy, American tongue, my dear," Jenkins teased. "If you spoke a civilized Celtic language, it wouldn't be difficult for you at all."

""You didn't think my tongue was so clumsy a little while ago," Cassandra shot back, poking him in the stomach.

Jenkins smiled as he remembered just how nimble and titillating her tongue HAD been just a little while ago. "Ah, touché!"

"So what civilized Celtic language should I be speaking?"

"A very old dialect of what is now called Welsh. 'Gwalchafad' means 'summer falcon'," Jenkins replied. "Hence the falcon tattoo."

Cassandra detected the familiar note of sorrow in his voice. Jenkins often became melancholy when he spoke of the past, and her heart always filled with pity for him. She was usually surprised by what caused his sadness, things she would never think of as being a cause for mourning. Like outliving EVERYONE who speaks your native language. She was quiet for a moment as she thought of a way to lighten his mood.

"Those words that you scream while in the throes of passion," she asked lightheartedly. "Are they the same language?"

"I do NOT 'scream'," he countered, distracted momentarily from his memories, his tone offended. "I 'call out'. And yes, they are the same language."

The Librarian giggled. "They better not be the names of old girlfriends!"

The Caretaker sighed loudly in mock irritation. "No, Miss Cillian, they are NOT the names of old girlfriends. They are terms of endearment. Uttered for you. And expressions of appreciation for your various…'talents'…while we're….being intimate."

Cassandra laughed at his discomfiture. It was amusing to her how someone as worldly wise as Jenkins could still be so prim about sex.

"So what do the words mean?"

"Things like 'my love', 'my precious one'. 'For the love of god, woman, don't stop now'. Things like that."

Cassandra debated whether or not to ask her next question, but curiosity got the better of her.

"Do you miss it? The language, I mean?"

Jenkins, caught off guard, paused, then sighed deeply.

"Yes, I do. I miss speaking it, hearing it. I've lived in America for a very long time, and it's my home now, but it's not where I was born, not where I grew up; I am, essentially, an immigrant. I learned to speak English centuries ago, but it's not my native language. When I was alone in the Annex—before you noisy lot showed up—I would often talk to myself out loud in it, just to hear it again."

The Caretaker fell quiet for a moment at the memory, then said thoughtfully, "Even though it's been over a 1,000 years, there are still days when I miss my home, my people, my language, the customs I grew up with. None of those things really exists anymore, not the way I knew them. I suppose I'll always miss them."

Cassandra propped herself on her elbow so she could see the knight's face. "You could teach me how to speak it," she offered. "Then you wouldn't be alone anymore."

Jenkins smiled and gently caressed her cheek as he gazed into her lovely blue eyes. "That's very generous and kind of you, my dear, but I think you already have more than enough to do as a Librarian without adding 'learn the extinct dialect of an obscure language' to your agenda."

The young woman met his gaze for a moment. She then reached out her own hand, stroked his face, and smiled. _God_ , he thought, _how beautiful she is._

" _Dw i'n dy garu ti, Gwalchafad, fy marchog dewr, fy nghariad aur_ ," she whispered.

Jenkins stared at her in astonishment. "What…what did you just say?"

Smiling mischievously now, she repeated the words, almost flawlessly. As she watched his face closely for his reaction to her little surprise, she was horrorstruck to see his dark eyes shine with welling tears.

"Oh, Jenkins, I'm sorry!" she said hurriedly, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his warm neck. "I didn't mean to upset you! I just wanted to surprise you! Some of the words I've heard you say, I repeated them to Jake and he told me they were Welsh but he didn't know how to speak that dialect but he said it was close enough to modern Welsh that he could understand it and that you would probably be able to understand modern Welsh and so I asked him to help me learn something romantic in Welsh that I could say back to you the next time I heard you say your words but now I've just completely screwed it all up and I'm just SO sorry!" Her own eyes began to fill with tears as she babbled on, angry with herself for having hurt the man she loved so much.

Jenkins wrapped his arms around the distraught woman. His shock wearing off, he began trying to comfort her.

"Shhhh, shhhh, my love," he murmured reassuringly. He gently pushed her away so he could look at her.

"Did Mr. Stone tell you what those words mean?" he asked. The Librarian nodded.

"'I love you, my knight in shining armor, my golden love.' I added your name at the last minute. I…I've been planning it for a while, as a surprise. I thought it would be nice for you to hear…" she trailed off uncertainly, then her eyes widened in apprehension. "Did Jake trick me into saying something bad?"

The immortal's eyes shone again with tears, and he had to drop his gaze. "No, my love. That's essentially what they mean. They're words that a lady speaks to her knight. And after all these centuries alone, I NEVER expected to hear a lady speak such words to me, and in my own tongue." He brought her and to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers in the courtly manner.

"Perhaps it was only a small gesture to you, but it means the world to me, my love, because I know it comes from your heart." He managed to master his tears, but he couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice. Jenkins leaned forward and gently kissed her soft, red lips. "Thank you, Cassandra."

"You're welcome, _fy selsig_ ," she said quietly, smiling. Jenkins looked up, perplexed.

"Do you know what ' _fy selsig'_ means?" he quizzed, amusement tinging his voice now.

"Jacob said it means 'my sausage'," she answered saucily. She looked at her lover pointedly as she slipped her hand beneath the covers. A delicious thrill shot through Jenkins as Cassandra's wandering hand firmly took possession of the 'sausage' she was referring to.

"Indeed," Jenkins sighed blissfully as he closed his eyes and gave himself over to his sorceress again. "I think I WILL teach you some new words and phrases, my dear. Some that not even Mr. Stone knows…."


	2. Tag (NSFW)

Chapter 2: Tag

Cassandra was in the workroom with the other Librarians, her head bent studiously over her mathematics text—annotated by Euclid himself—but her eyes were peering surreptitiously over the top of the page, watching Jenkins's every move. The Caretaker was oblivious to her surveillance, however, as he gathered up an armload of books ready to be returned to the stacks. He lifted the pile of heavy books with a soft grunt and carefully started up the steep stairs with them.

The Librarian watched the lanky immortal as he climbed the steps; she was disappointed that the tails of his suit jacket blocked her view of his fine ass. He reached the landing and turned to the right. As soon as he disappeared from view, Cassandra closed the math text, slipped down from her chair and casually followed Jenkins up the stairs. The others, all absorbed in work of their own, paid no attention as she passed by them.

Once on the second floor, the redheaded woman quickly spotted Jenkins just a few yards away, humming softly to himself as he reshelved his books. Cassandra trailed him silently at a distance on the other side of the shelving, peeking between the books to keep sight of the unsuspecting man as he slowly moved down the range of books. She saw an image of herself as a sleek, graceful cat, silently stalking its prey, something big and lumbering and clueless, like a woodchuck. A big, lumbering, clueless, incredibly sexy woodchuck. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling and giving herself away. She recovered her composure and licked her lips, waiting. When Jenkins reached the far end of the shelving range and turned to move to the next, she pounced.

Moving swiftly and noiselessly up behind the Caretaker, she slipped her arms around his waist. Startled, he tensed and turned around, her arms still locked around him. He smiled when he saw his lovely Librarian looking up at him, a mischievous spark in her bright blue eyes. "Miss Cillian," he rumbled in greeting. "Is there something I can help you with, my dear?"

"Shut up and put the books down," she ordered, her voice low and terse. "Now!"

Jenkins obeyed, still smiling, but puzzled; it wasn't like Cassandra to be so sharp. As soon as he set the books on a nearby shelf, Cassandra put both of her hands on his chest and pushed him roughly up against the wall.

"Take off your coat."

Jenkins blinked in confusion. "Take off my coat?" he repeated.

"Take it off!" she hissed, grabbing the offending coat by its lapels and trying to tug it off by herself. Jenkins, still perplexed, hurriedly slipped off the tailored coat before she damaged it. Cassandra snatched it from his hand and tossed it carelessly behind her.

"Cassandra!" he began to protest. "What do you think you're...?" His protests were cut short as the petite Librarian dragged his suspenders from his shoulders and began unfastening his trousers.

"Cassandra!" he repeated, this time in alarm. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!" He tried to grab her hands, but she was too fast. She looked up at him again.

"Quiet! Or the others downstairs will hear you!"

As he stared down at her in complete incredulity, the Librarian smoothly pulled both his trousers and shorts down around his ankles, leaving him completely exposed from the waist down.

"Cassandra!" he whispered hoarsely, aghast. A trickle of apprehension crept into his gut. "Stop that! Someone might...!"

She stroked the side of his apprehensive face with a soft hand, a feral glint in her eyes. "It's the danger that makes it so much fun!" she purred wickedly.

In the blink of an eye, Cassandra dropped to her knees in front of the flustered man and firmly grasped his manhood. Jenkins realized too late what she was up to. He gasped involuntarily as the pretty young woman slipped his member into her warm, soft mouth.

Shocked, he opened his own mouth, intending to order her to stop, stop this immediately, but instead a groan of pleasure escaped him as she slowly squeezed and pulled on his rapidly hardening member. Her soft tongue swirled sensuously around the smooth, exquisitely sensitive surface of his cock's head. His hands blindly flew to her head to push her away, but his traitorous fingers instead entangled themselves in the silky, russet tresses.

Jenkins fell back against the wall and closed his eyes as he felt lust burst into flame and burn deep inside his belly and groin, the heat spreading rapidly throughout his body. He dizzily remembered the warning about making noise, and tried to stay as quiet as he could; how on earth would he explain THIS if they were discovered by the others? But the inability to give expression to his growing desire only seemed to make it burn that much hotter and faster. The immortal began to pant raggedly, helplessly, as Cassandra continued to pull, lick, squeeze and suck on his now rock-hard cock.

Soft whimpers soon joined the rasping gasps as his bewitching little Librarian now gently grasped his balls with her other hand and began to play with them—carefully fondling the contents of his sac within the loose skin. When she briefly took each ball into her hot, wet mouth, softly nipping and sucking on them as her hand continued to squeeze and stroke his throbbing shaft, Jenkins whined as he felt his knees weaken and his climax surge. Just as he felt himself on the edge of the precipice and eagerly waited to slip over it into euphoria—Cassandra stopped dead and pulled her head free of his clutching fingers. Jenkins's brown eyes flew open and he looked down at her, his gaze wild and feverish. She was still kneeling in front of him, a maddeningly winsome smile on her lovely face.

"Cassandra!" he breathed. "What's wrong? Why did you stop?"

The smile morphed into an evil grin. "All done," she said quietly, breezily.

"What?!" he almost yelped, horrified. "No!"

"Oh?" she said, an exaggerated look of confusion on her face. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Christ, woman!" he swore, whispering harshly as he ran shaky hands through his mane of white hair. "Yes! You can't just leave me...hanging like this!"

"Beg me," she commanded, eyes hard as diamonds. One hand idly resumed fondling his sac. "Beg me to finish sucking you off."

"WHAT?!" he gasped, glaring at her in disbelief.

The Librarian shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "Well, if you don't want me to..." She started to stand up.

"NO!" Jenkins almost shouted, his voice desperate. He lowered it back to a whiaper "No! Please! Cassandra—please...f...finish me."

"Finish what?" she asked, wide eyes all innocence.

Jenkins suddenly knew what she was doing. Cassandra was always teasing him about what she called his "prim and proper" attitude regarding anything of a sexual nature; she was especially amused by his steadfast refusal to use any sort of slang words relating to sex. Now the impertinent little minx was having some fun at his expense. He briefly considered not giving in to her, but that clever, angelic hand of hers was fondling him now, teasing him, seducing him...

"Please, Cassandra," he said, his voice low and pleading. "Please, finish...sucking me off."

"There, now was that so difficult?" Smiling sweetly, she took him again into her mouth and began to suck on him—hard. The Caretaker's white head flew back against the wooden paneling with a sharp thud as he arched his back in ecstasy, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he clenched them to keep from crying out. His breathing came in irregular gasps, and he couldn't contain the animal-like moans as she quickly brought him to a shattering climax. Jenkins gritted his teeth and grunted deep in his throat as his manhood pulsed, pumping his hot seed into her sweet mouth.

The waves of his orgasm slammed over him again and again as Cassandra continued to suck him dry. When the waves finally subsided, Jenkins slumped weakly against the wall, breathing hard, his heart pounding like a drum. He was vaguely aware of Cassandra releasing him and standing up. He raised his head and opened his eyes in time to see Cassandra remove his pocket square from his coat. When she saw him looking at her, she moved to stand directly in front of him. After making sure that she had his full attention, she swallowed his cum with a loud gulp. She daintily dabbed her lips with his handkerchief, tucking the deep red silk square inside her cleavage when she was finished. Then, standing on tiptoe, she lightly poked the befuddled man's nose with her finger.

"Boop!" she said playfully. "Tag—you're it!"

Cassandra turned on her heel and skipped away, leaving the hapless immortal pants-less, bewildered and barely able to stand.

Swallowing hard, Jenkins slowly pulled himself upright as his euphoric haze cleared, gathering about him what shreds of dignity he had left. He pulled his pants up and refastened them, and put the rest of his clothes to rights again. He picked his coat up, brushed it off and slipped it on. As he adjusted the sleeves he walked over to the railing surrounding the balcony and looked over it onto the workroom below.

Cassandra was back at her desk, the math text open again in front of her. He let his narrowed eyes bore into her, until she finally looked up uneasily and caught sight of him. She flashed him an impudent smile and a little wave. Jenkins smiled back—a wide, predatory, wolfish leer that sent a chill down the Librarian's spine. Her smile faded as she lip-read the words he was now mouthing slowly for her: Game. On. Miss. Cillian.

The indomitable knight pulled himself up to his full height while slightly lifting his head imperiously, then turned and went back his books, leaving Cassandra Cillian to wonder nervously if perhaps she had just started something that she couldn't possibly finish.


	3. May and December

Chapter 4: May and December

Something was bothering Cassandra tonight, Jenkins could sense it clearly. It had been over a week since they'd last had the opportunity to spend time together alone before they'd finally gotten an entire day free of Library obligations. Jenkins, for the first time in decades, had actually been eager to get out of the Library and to spending time with his beloved Librarian. He had especially looked forward to spending some quality time with her in the bed they shared.

But now that they were actually here, to say that he was disappointed was a tremendous understatement. He was trying his best, but Cassandra just wasn't responding with her usual enthusiasm. She was distant and withdrawn as they made love, and she plainly was simply going through the motions for his sake. Of course, Jenkins was far too gentlemanly to continue something so intimate under such circumstances.

The concerned Caretaker pulled his love close to himself, her back against his chest as they lay together. "What's wrong, my love?" he asked softly.

"Nothing. I'm just tired, I guess. We did a lot of walking around Boston today, you know." She tried to sound nonchalant, but he could tell she was lying. "I'm sorry, Jenkins. I know how much you were looking forward to tonight."

He gave her a reassuring hug. "Did we not promise one another early on to be honest with each other?" he reminded her gently. "Something _is_ troubling you, my heart, I can tell; please, tell me what it is. Have I done something to upset you?"

"No," Cassandra replied. There was a catch on her throat.

Jenkins immediately tried to remember what he could've done to cause her such distress, but he couldn't think of a single thing. He felt her take a deep breath, then let it out slowly and quietly. He knew that she was trying to hide tears from him.

"What is it, Cassandra? Tell me, please," he coaxed.

The Librarian rolled over and nestled into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and burst into quiet tears. Dismayed, he simply held her as she wept. Eventually the tears faded to sniffles, and she burrowed even more closely to the anxious man next to her.

"I overheard some women talking today, in the ladies' room after we had lunch," she finally admitted, her voice small and thin.

A feeling of dread seeped into Jenkins's chest. He tried to keep his tone neutral. "And what were these women saying?"

"They were talking about us," she said, her voice cracking. "They came into the restroom after me and didn't know I was there. They were saying awful things about us, and I can't stop thinking about it."

Jenkins felt the dread in his chest turn into anger. He had heard many insults, taunts and threats in his long life; words rarely fazed him anymore. He already knew what some people thought of them whenever they were in public as a couple; he saw it in the furtive, disapproving glances he occasionally caught. He could ignore those people easily, but Cassandra was young and comparatively inexperienced, and sometimes still sensitive to what others said or thought.

"What exactly did they say, my dear?"

"Oh, I don't want to repeat what…" she began, but he cut her off.

"I want to know exactly what they said, Cassandra. Please." She took a deep breath and plunged in.

"They said that we were disgusting as a couple. That either you were a sleazy old pervert, or I was a gold-digging slut. That the thought of us…having sex…is revolting and it made them want to vomit. That kind of stuff."

Jenkins could barely hear her words they were so soft. He continued to hold her as he thought about what she had just told him.

"Do you think we're a disgusting couple?" he asked quietly.

Cassandra tried to bury herself even more deeply into his arms, and when she answered him, it was hardly a whisper.

"No. I don't think we're disgusting, but… I don't know—I'm confused. I don't have the greatest track record when it comes to picking men. In the past, as soon as they heard the word 'tumor' they were pretty much done with me. The ones that stayed turned out to be worse than the ones who left. But that was my fault. I used to think that was all I would be able to get, being damaged goods and everything. But you were different. And I didn't even think about our ages." Her voice broke. Jenkins felt her arms tighten, desperately clinging to him.

"But when I heard those women today, it made me think, 'What if I _am_ wrong? What if I _have_ fallen for the wrong man again?' I don't care about myself, Jenkins, but if I've hurt you because I'm just too stupid…"

"You haven't hurt me, Cassandra, and you are _not_ stupid!" he said quickly, sternly. He didn't like the direction this was taking at all. "And I don't ever want to hear you talk like that about yourself again."

"But I'm the one who came on to you first! You tried to tell me that we wouldn't be a good match, exactly because you're so much older than me, but I wouldn't listen. And then after hearing those women today, I couldn't help but think that maybe I _should_ have listened and just left you alone like you wanted..." She trailed off plaintively as she held onto him so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe.

The immortal stroked her hair soothingly, bent and lightly kissed her head.

"I think you're forgetting something, my dear," he chided kindly. "I have a say in this relationship, I believe."

Jenkins let go of the Librarian and sat up in the bed, leaned back against the carved walnut headboard. He patted the mattress next to him, inviting Cassandra to join him, and after she was settled in next to him, he took her hand in both of his, took a deep breath.

"I've seen a great deal of magic in my many years on this earth," he began, his eyes fixed on their joined hands as his spoke. "So you must believe me, Cassandra, when I say that the most powerful, wildest magic in the universe is love. It strikes like a serpent whomever it pleases. One simply cannot help who one falls in love with, my dear, and I've learned recently that only a fool tries to fight it."

He raised his eyes to her blue ones. "I fell in love with you almost from the first moment I saw you. I tried to resist it, and it brought me nothing but unhappiness. I was torn between two very different women—one who did not return my love, but to whom I had nevertheless promised to remain faithful; and one who clearly loved me but with whose love I could return because of my promise to the first woman."

He dropped his gaze to their hands again, almost in embarrassment.

"So I took what I thought was the high road: A knight keeps his word, no matter what. But now, with hindsight, I see that was actually the low road. The high road would have been to accept the fact that Charlene did not want me—had never wanted me—and free both Charlene and myself from the burden of that foolish promise. Had you not 'come on to me' first, had you not persisted after I tried to dissuade you, had you not persisted after Charlene passed and come to me that first night we spent together—"

Jenkins felt a lump begin to form in his throat at the memory, and he stopped momentarily before he could continue. "—The most precious treasure in my life would most certainly have slipped through my fingers, perhaps forever."

He patted Cassandra's hand as he returned his dark eyes to her pale face. "You may have been guilty of bad judgment in the past, my love, but in THIS case, you were right, and I was wrong."

He lifted her soft, delicate hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. He then gently pulled her close and put his arm around her as he leaned his white head against her red one.

"But, I suppose in view of today's developments in Boston, however, we now have to make a choice. Number one, we separate." He felt her body stiffen sharply against his, and rushed on before she could speak. His voice was somber and forlorn.

"Of course, it would be impossible for us to live and work in the same place, to see each other every day would be far too painful for both of us, so I would have to leave. Find a different annex to live in. Someplace remote and forgotten; there are still a few out there. I would seal myself in this time, though, just to make sure that no more Librarians could invade and disrupt my life again—especially no more pretty, young redheaded Librarians. Losing the one I loved more than anything else in the world would be heartbreaking enough for me. I couldn't risk going through that again."

After a few moments in silence, Cassandra looked up fearfully into the Caretaker's sad face. "What's the second choice?" she asked timidly.

"Ah, well," he rumbled on gravely. "Our second choice would be: The next time we hear someone disapproving of us as a couple, we look straight into their judgmental eyes and tell them to go fuck themselves with a rusty, iron fuckstick, because our relationship is none of their damn business."

Cassandra pulled away from Jenkins and stared at him, shocked by the profanity. His face now wore a self-satisfied smirk as he gazed off into the distance, as though visualizing with satisfaction the looks of scandalized horror on the genteel faces of their critics.

Cassandra burst into laughter and threw herself into his arms again. "You're silly!" she murmured affectionately, loving that she was the only one allowed to see this side of him, playful and mischievous as a boy.

"I'm also right," he said, slightly more serious again as he softly nuzzled her cheek. "'So, do we separate for the sake of social propriety, no matter how miserable it will make us? Or do we stay together, live happily ever after, and ignore the bitter old biddies of the world?"

"Number two," she said immediately, snuggling against his chest, the silver hairs tickling her nose. "I guess I'M really the silly one, huh?"

"No, my dear, just a bit sensitive, perhaps. There's a saying of the Buddha that I've always been rather fond of. It goes: 'I will endure the harsh words of others as an elephant in battle endures arrows, for I know that most people behave badly.'"

"I like that," she said thoughtfully. "Did the Buddha tell you that himself?"

This time it was Jenkins's turn to pull away and stare at her.

"Dear God, woman! He died a thousand years before I was even born! Just how old do you think I am?" he loudly protested with mock offense.

She laughed again at the exaggerated look of pique on her Caretaker's handsome face. She put her hands on either side of his head and began to pepper his face and neck with quick, playful, little kisses until he couldn't keep himself from chortling at her antics. As his laughter faded into a gentle smile, he began to gently stroke her naked upper arm.

"Feeling better, now?" he asked.

Cassandra nodded shyly as she dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry, Jenkins, I shouldn't let people get to me like that, I know that. I guess I should be trusting myself more and others less, huh?"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he murmured. "And trusting yourself more will come with experience." He leaned forward as though he meant to kiss her, but instead placed his lips next to her ear, his hand dropping from her arm to stroke her lovely bare breast.

"And just for the record, my dear, the thought of you and I having sex makes ME want to throw you down on this bed and give you the good, hard rogering you so richly deserve."

The redhead giggled at his suggestive words, but she reached out to lightly drag her nails over his chest and stomach.

"Hmmmm. So far tonight you've been a counselor and a philosopher. How are you with anatomy?" she coyly asked.

"Tab A usually fits very nicely into Slot B," he offered proudly.

"Really? That's all you've got?" she laughed.

He shrugged casually. "I admit it's one of my weaker subjects. Perhaps I should find a tutor?"

"I think I could help you with that," she murmured enticingly. "For a price, of course."

"And what price would you ask, my dear?"

She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. "Didn't I hear you mention something about a good, hard rogering a little while ago?"

 _Ah! There's my Cassandra_ , thought Jenkins as he gave her a deep kiss, then roughly threw the gleefully squealing woman down onto the bed.


	4. The Color of Hope

Cassandra hit the "Play" button on the remote control as she bounced happily onto the sofa next to Jenkins. As the dvd hummed to life, she snuggled up next to the large, nattily-dressed man waiting for her there.

"Eve loaned me both of these movies," she chattered eagerly. "She said they're a couple of her favorites from Steven Spielberg."

"I'm sure if Colonel Baird recommended them, then they're well worth seeing," Jenkins replied agreeably. _Dear God in heaven_ , he prayed fervently to himself, _please don't let one of them be that ridiculous nonsense about that archaeologist fellow and his so–called quest for the Holy Grail..._

It turned out to be a far worse ordeal for the old Caretaker than Grail-obsessed Nazis. The movie now playing was 'The Color Purple', and five minutes in Cassandra was already sobbing uncontrollably. As Celie's father took away her newborn baby, Jenkins wrapped his arm around the distraught Librarian comfortingly. Fortunately, there was a box of tissues on the end table for just such an emergency, and he quickly handed her one.

Throughout the entire film, Cassandra cried: Tears of overwhelming sadness whenever something awful happened to Celie; tears of unbridled joy when something good happened. During the especially emotional scenes—such as when Mister drove Celie's beloved sister away from their house after he tried to rape her—Cassandra was inconsolable, though Jenkins tried. He gently hugged her closer to himself, kissed the top of her head, murmured soothingly, handed her a fresh tissue.

"Oh, Jenkins! Poor Celie!" she repeated over and over throughout the entire movie. For two and a half hours, they sat together, glued to the sofa, as the tragic story played out on the large TV screen. When Celie was _finally_ , joyfully reunited with her long-lost children and sister, a fresh burst of tears streamed from the Cassandra's red eyes. As she mopped her face with yet another tissue, she suddenly heard a gasping sob coming from her right. Turning, she was astonished to see Jenkins wiping tears from his dark, red-rimmed eyes and weeping just a feely as she was.

"Jenkins?" she breathed. Surprised to see the normally stoic immortal so emotional, she took his hand and squeezed it hard. "Jenkins! Have you been... _crying_? This whole time? Because of the movie?"

The older man sheepishly glanced to his left. There on the floor at his feet was a large pile of used tissues, and limply draped over the arm of the sofa was Jenkins's sodden handkerchief. She looked back at him, her own tears forgotten.

"I'm afraid I have a confession to make, my dear," he said, embarrassed to have been caught. "This is one of my favorite films. I've seen it well over 200 times since it was first released."

"Really?" she asked, blinking in wonder. "And you _still_ cry when you see it?"

"Every single time. From the moment it begins until the moment it ends."

Cassandra was suddenly fascinated by the idea that someone as self-possessed as Jenkins could be so moved to tears by a chick-flick. "Why do you like it so much?" she asked.

"Believe it or not, I relate to Miss Celie," he said, moving closer to the sniffling young woman. "Very different circumstances, of course, but I know what it's like to have loved ones torn away from me. I know what it's like to suffer abuse of all kinds at the hands of others. I know what it feels like to have to merely survive life rather than live it. I know what it's like to cling so _desperately_ to hope, no matter how weak and fragile it is."

His dark eyes took on a distant, dreamy look. "One always needs hope, Cassandra. One _always_ has to have the hope of finding happiness one day, of finding joy. To do otherwise would mean suffering an existence infinitely worse than death."

With a deep breath he suddenly came back to himself. He looked into Cassandra's watery blue eyes, and smiled. The Librarian felt her heart skip a beat. She loved his smile, always so gentle and kind.

"Fortunately, my own hope has finally been rewarded," he murmured warmly. "Though it seems that the color of _my_ hope turns out not to be purple." He reached out and ran his fingers lightly through her silky hair.

"It's red."

Cassandra dropped her gaze, blinking back yet another wave of tears. She looked up again and softly brushed his face with her fingers as they moved to stroke his thick locks.

"Mine's white."

Jenkins crooked his finger beneath her chin and lightly tipped her head up as he kissed her. His arms slipped around her and he nuzzled her face affectionately until his lips were next to her ear. "I love you so much, Cassandra," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she breathed back with renewed sniffles. Extricating herself, she quickly reached for the tissue box. "Sorry—Tissue time!" Cassandra sing-songed apologetically.

The immortal chuckled and patted the pretty girl's knee. "Well, shall we watch the second movie now, or are we all cried out for one night?"

The Librarian laughed as she added the fresh tissue to her own pile of soggy ones. "I'm game if you are," she said bravely. "Besides, the second one is an action/adventure, so we don't have to worry about dehydrating ourselves any further."

"Excellent!" Jenkins said. "What's the title?"

She picked up the dvd case and read from the cover as she went to the disc player to switch out the movies. "'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'."

Jenkins's head fell back as he closed his eyes and grimaced silently in anticipated pain.

"Ready?" Cassandra chirped as she hurried back to the sofa.

The Caretaker's head snapped back up, a Cheshire cat grin plastered on his face, and he settled back into the sofa. He wrapped her in his arms, quietly steeling himself against the intellectual and historical horror show that was about to begin tormenting him with inaccuracy after inaccuracy after inaccuracy.

"Ready as I'll ever be, my love."


	5. Tag, Part Two (NSFW)

As the last of the three Librarians and their Guardian disappeared through the back door, Jenkins carefully adjusted the controls to hold the door in place on the other side so that they could return when they were ready, then gently closed the lid of the globe that housed the mechanism. He strode to the long, clutter-filled table in the center of the spacious workroom and stood next to Cassandra Cillian as she studied the latest articles to appear in the clippings book, the same articles that had sent the team on their mission.

"I would never in a million years have guessed that a chamber pot could actually be magical," she confessed, slightly nauseated by the idea.

"Anything can be imbued with magic, Miss Cillian," commented the tall Caretaker. "You've certainly been a Librarian long enough now to know that."

"Oh, I totally believe it can be done!" the young woman said fervently. "I'm just not used yet to how many plain, ordinary, everyday items actually turn out to be potentially world-destroying magical artifacts. I mean, come on—who would even think to curse an Eighteenth Century chamber pot in the first place?!"

"Someone hell-bent on bringing down the French monarchy once and for all," he answered blithely. "Any victims beyond that primary goal were merely counted as collateral damage."

The redhead wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of being killed by a chamber pot. "So how long do you think it'll take them to track this thing down at the palace in Versailles and get back to the Annex?"

"Just long enough, I hope," said Jenkins slyly as he slipped behind Cassandra and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his body into hers. He bent and began to kiss her neck, stopping occasionally to nibble and suck on her earlobes.

"Jenkins!" she gasped in surprise. It wasn't like him to engage in displays of affection like this when there was a chance of being seen by the others _. He must be feeling especially frisky today_ , she thought to herself as a warm, tingling feeling flowed from her groin and spread to the rest of her body. He knew that nibbling on her ears always put her in the mood.

"Shall we adjourn to the privacy of our room, my dear?" she asked in an artificially low voice, doing her best impersonation of the Caretaker.

"Mmmmm," the immortal purred into her ear; the sound of his voice was like velvet. "I think not. I think right here will suit my purpose just fine."

With that, as he pinned her body to the table's edge with his, pulled up her short flowered skirt with one hand, while the other quickly pulled down her thin lilac panties.

"Jenkins!" she squeaked in surprise, her arms flailing, trying to get hold of him. "What are you doing?! The others might come back any time!"

In answer, Jenkins extended one long arm and swept the clippings book and a portion of the other books and papers crowding the table heedlessly onto the floor. He then firmly bent the petite woman over the newly-cleared tabletop and held her there, one hand pressing her down between her shoulder blades. The tall man bent over her until his head was level with hers.

"But, Cassandra, my dear," his low voice growled into her ear mockingly. "It's the danger that makes it so much fun!"

The Librarian's eyes few open wide as she realized, far too late, that Jenkins was getting his revenge for her own ambush of him in the stacks a couple of weeks ago. She could feel him fumbling to loosen his trousers with his other hand, and within a few seconds she felt him rubbing his semi-hard member slowly between her legs and against her rapidly wetting sex. Despite her anxiety about getting caught, she couldn't prevent a sharp gasp from escaping her lips.

"Jenkins…" she sighed, but could get no other words out before he bent over her again and began kissing and lightly biting her shoulders and neck. While his left hand stroked her bare thigh and buttock, the right hand wound its way to the front of her. He sank one long finger into the warm, slick cleft between her legs, exploring slowly until he found her clit. She groaned loudly between gasps for breath as he rubbed her swelling bud, slowly and firmly.

Jenkins besieged her mercilessly, bringing her just to the brink of ecstasy, then letting her slide back down the slope so that he could tease her back to the brink again, over and over. She could feel his now fully-engorged manhood tucked snugly between her thighs, hard and waiting patiently. Jenkins had her so wet and ready by now that she swore she could feel some of her juices dribbling slowly down her leg.

"Stop, Jenkins," she moaned loudly. "I can't take any more!"

The Caretaker leaned forward, grinding his hips into her ass as he did. "If you want me to finish this, you know what you have to do," he said, his voice rough with his own desire.

Cassandra did know what he wanted, too: He wanted her to beg him to finish her, just as she had made him beg earlier. A sudden surge of stubbornness flared up inside of her.

"No!" she spat defiantly.

"Ah, well," his voice like distant thunder. "That's a very naughty Librarian, Miss Cillian. You should do as your wise old Caretaker tells you, otherwise…" Jenkins smoothly jammed two of his fingers deep into her slippery labia and began stroking her sweet spot on the inside. Cassandra threw her head back and wailed with the blissful pleasure he was giving her, but he maddeningly withdrew just before she could reach her climax. She felt like she was going to explode if she didn't get relief soon.

"Please!" she cried, desperate to feel him inside of her, but unwilling to give in to him. "Please! Stop it!"

"Of course, my love," he said softly. "Perhaps there something else I can do for you?" He began to slowly play with her clit again as he licked her earlobe, his tongue darting in and out of her ear teasingly.

"Oh, God," she moaned weakly, all resistance evaporating.

"Please, Jenkins," she whimpered. "Please…"

"Please, what, my love?" he whispered huskily. "You know the words I want to hear. Just say them, and I'll make this go away."

"Please," she pleaded, almost whining now. "Please—fuck me, Jenkins!"

"Ah, there, now." She could hear in his voice the feral grin he was now wearing. "Was that really so difficult, my dear?" _Does he really have to keep using my own words against me like that?_ she thought dazedly.

Suddenly Jenkins was upright and forcing her legs further apart with his foot. He pulled her hips out from the table a bit, lined himself up, and rammed his hard cock home.

Cassandra nearly screamed with relief and pleasure as he slammed hard into her again and again, just as eager for release as she was. The Librarian loudly moaned his name over and over as his shaft rubbed smoothly against her already overstimulated clit. Jenkins, spurred into a frenzy of lust by her cries, could only grunt like a beast with each stroke as he rode her, his hands gripping her hips so tightly that there were sure to be bruises later.

Within a matter of minutes they were there. Cassandra came first, throwing her head back and crying out like a wounded animal, blinded by the initial hit of her orgasm. She panted and groaned helplessly as, a few seconds later, Jenkins's rhythmic pumping stumbled and he succumbed to his own climax. He bellowed like a bull as he gave her a few more pulsing strokes, then collapsed on top of her, his hot breath brushing the back of her neck as he gasped raggedly, letting the dizzying euphoria wash over him.

As soon as he was recovered enough, he stood up and withdrew himself from his Librarian. He quickly pulled his trousers up and straightened his clothes. He stooped and snatched up Cassandra's panties from the floor, playfully slapping the redhead's bare ass as he stood up. She jerked upright with a surprised squeal and spun around to face him. As she stood weak-kneed before him, he smiled triumphantly. Reaching between her wet legs, he moistened the panties with their combined juices. Bringing the tiny bit of satin up to his nose, he breathed deeply, staring at her through narrowed, wolf-like eyes as he exhaled contentedly. He slipped her panties into his pocket as Cassandra began pulling down her skirt and straightening her own clothing. She opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment the back door whirred into life and began to glow faintly blue.

Shooting Jenkins a venomous look before whirling around and facing the door, she checked to make sure her clothes and hair didn't betray what had gone on between them. She plastered a huge smile on her face just as the team began emerging through the doorway.

"Success, Jenkins!" crowed Flynn as the others spilled into the workroom. The head Librarian stopped as he saw the books and papers scattered all over the floor. "What happened here?" he asked, perplexed.

"Nothing, sir, just a small mishap," Jenkins smoothly answered. "Shall I take that artifact for you, now, sir, and place it in the collection for you?"

"Absolutely!" Flynn handed the delicately-painted porcelain chamber pot to the Caretaker. He was then distracted by a squabble that had broken out between Jones and Stone over who had done more to contribute to the acquisition of the Library's newest artifact. As Flynn turned away to deal with the two younger men, Jenkins bent and quickly kissed Cassandra on the tip of her nose.

"Tag!" he said, just loudly enough for her to hear over the commotion of the others. "I believe you're it, my dear."

"This isn't over, Jenkins!" Cassandra hissed.

The Caretaker merely flashed her that wolfish smile again, and all she could do was to stare daggers at him as he turned and calmly stalked away, leaving her panty-less and with a cooling stickiness between her legs.

"Oh, Miss Cillian," he called behind him breezily. "Would you be so kind as to bend over and retrieve the clippings book and those other items from the floor for me, please?"

 _OH, this SO isn't over!_ she swore to herself, stooping carefully to gather up the scattered items as quickly as possible.


	6. Mushy Morning Drabbles

The Caretaker slowly opened his eyes, and his usual first thought of the day darted through his mind.

 _Where's Cassandra?_

He rolled over carefully, saw her sleeping peacefully in the bed next to him.

He laid his hand on hers; he preferred to have her wrapped safely in his arms, but he contented himself with just touching her. How beautiful she was! And she had chosen him.

 _For love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave,_ said Scripture.

He smiled, heart aching with that strong, fierce love, and he thanked all the gods for bringing them together.

###############

Cassandra awoke with a start, her eyes adjusting to the faint light in the room. Jenkins was next to her, fast asleep.

He was 1,500 years old, but still incredibly handsome, still sexy. He treated her like a queen. She lightly brushed his cheek; he smiled faintly as he dreamed of her.

Every time he called her 'my love', her heart felt like it would burst with joy. She knew of his fierce love for her, for she loved him in kind; she couldn't imagine life without him now.

He was her Knight in Shining Armor, her one true love.


	7. The HAPPY Birthday

**NB: An epilogue to "The Problem With Secrets".**

Galahad adjusted his grip on the weapons in his gauntleted hands—a sword in his right, a parrying dagger in his left—as he squared off against the Viking and his axe. The two warriors were fairly matched in height and weight. Galahad was slightly thinner and wiry. He also had the advantage of centuries of combat experience. He was adept at reading an opponent's expression to predict their next move, and his reflexes were honed to a razor's sharpness.

The Viking, on the other hand, was a berserker; his prowess in battle came from a furious, uncontrollable bloodlust that indiscriminately struck down everyone in its path, be they friend or foe.

This time the knight's reflexes were useless; not even Galahad had eyes in the back of his head. As he prepared to launch an attack on the Viking in front of him, another Viking behind him shot an arrow into his back.

Galahad involuntarily dropped his sword as he went down, sharp pain searing into his lung just below his right shoulder blade. He saw the screaming, axe-wielding Viking coming towards him to finish him off, blade held high over his head, and Galahad instinctively rolled aside. The arrow's shaft snapped off as he rolled onto his back and excruciatingly drove the arrowhead even further into his back. The heavy axe-blade almost missed him, biting into the back of his left thigh on its way into the hard earth, the handle snapping with the force of the blow. The berserker threw the axe-handle away and pulled a long, vicious-looking dagger from a sheath at his back. The blonde fighter leaped on top of Galahad and clutched him by the throat, pinning the wounded man to the ground. He raised the heavy dagger to plunge it in into the knight's heart, heedless of the parrying dagger Galahad just buried in the berserker's ribcage. Suddenly the Norseman leaned down, kissed Galahad softly on his lips and gently caressed the stricken man's face.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart!" the berserker sang brightly.

Jenkins started awake with a snort, blinking his sleep-filled eyes rapidly as he struggled to focus on his surroundings. Looking around, he was momentarily confused; this wasn't the Danelaw, and that wasn't a blood-covered, bearskin-clad Viking berserker straddling his body. He was in his bed in the Annex, and that was Cassandra on top of him now, wearing those silly Hello Kitty pajamas and a pink robe, a bright smile on her face. All in all, he much preferred the redhead over the blonde.

"Cassandra?" he asked groggily. "What's going on?"

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" she chirped. "You don't want to sleep your whole birthday away, do you?"

The Caretaker looked at her, perplexed. "My birthday? Is that today?"

Cassandra leaned down and nibbled his earlobe as she murmured into his ear. "Of course it's today! Don't you keep track of your birthday?"

Despite the pleasant tingling sensation her nibbling was producing in all sorts of naughty places, Jenkins made a sour face at her question.

"No, I don't, actually," he said gruffly. "I haven't celebrated my birthday in centuries. It's foolish for someone my age to mind such things." A thought suddenly occurred to him and he sat up in the bed, forcing the pretty Librarian to sit up in his lap.

"Wait a minute—how did YOU know that today is my birthday? I've never told any of you that."

Cassandra draped her arms around his neck and gave her birthday boy an affectionate peck on his scarred nose.

I'm a Librarian, it's my job to dig up lost, arcane information!" she said proudly. Jenkins stared at her, stone-faced.

Cassandra dropped her gaze guiltily as she confessed. "I asked Charlene about it a while back, and she told me. She told that you don't like to celebrate it, too, but that's just so sad to me!" The older man began to protest, but she cut him off.

"Maybe _you're_ not aware of this, Jenkins," she chided him gently. "But lots of people are glad that you're here, believe it or not. _I'm_ so glad you were born—if you hadn't been, I wouldn't be nearly as happy right now, and I think that should be celebrated."

Jenkins was taken aback by her heartfelt words, and the irritation that he was feeling at being forced to acknowledge yet another year passed in his long, pain-filled life melted away in the light of the Librarian's kindness and love. He slipped his arms around her waist and gave her a quick kiss.

"Perhaps you're right, my dear," he conceded. "You'll have to forgive me; I'm not used to looking at birthdays in such a positive light. For a long time now they've only meant that I'm one year older and nothing more."

The young woman smiled at him, her fingers idly playing with the longer hair at the back of his tousled head.

"How old are you now, anyway?" she asked curiously. "If you don't mind my asking, that is..."

The immortal took a deep breath and knit his brows together as he did some figuring in his head. When he was finished, he looked back into her lovely blue eyes.

"I am 1,545 years old today," he announced.

"1,545?!" she yelped in surprise. "WOW! I didn't realize you were THAT old!" The sour look returned to Jenkins's face, and she burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry, Jenkins, I didn't mean it that way," she said contritely, giving him a hug. "It's just that when you think of Sir Galahad, you think of, like, the Middle Ages, not the Dark Ages. Either way, you're too old for a birthday spanking!"

The sour look was immediately replaced with one of intrigue. "A birthday _spanking_ , did you say?" he rumbled, waggling his eyebrows as he pulled the giggling Librarian closer.

"Stop that!" she laughed, swatting his arm. "Save that for later, you randy old goat! Right now, your breakfast is getting cold."

"Breakfast?" he echoed, letting go of Cassandra. She rolled off of the bed and picked up a bed tray full of covered dishes and a teapot. She carefully carried it over to the bed and Jenkins helped her to set it in front of him. Lifting the various covers, the Caretaker discovered plates of ham, fresh strawberries with cream—and a huge plate of _pain perdu_. Jenkins's eyes lit up at the sight, his mouth watering in anticipation as he caught the delectable scent of vanilla and brandy rising from the plate. He looked wonderingly at Cassandra, who was sitting on the bed next to him, thoroughly enjoying his reaction.

"How on earth did you know that _pain perdu_ is one of my favorite breakfasts?" he asked. He answered his own question almost immediately. "Charlene." Cassandra nodded.

"I hope you like it," she said shyly. A terrifying thought suddenly struck Jenkins.

"Um...Did you...make this yourself, my dear?" he asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice. Cassandra had many wonderful gifts, but cooking was NOT among them. He was still having flashbacks of what he privately called "The Chili Incident". It was the one time in his long life that the immortal knight believed he might actually die.

"Well, no," she admitted. "Eve's the one who actually cooked everything. She was really insistent on it when I told her what I was planning for you; she said she wanted to do something special for you on your big day, too."

Jenkins smiled brightly, silently thanking every god in the universe for Eve Baird. He picked up the bowl of powdered sugar and began happily covering the fat slices of eggy, toasted bread beneath a veritable avalanche of snowy sweetness, followed by a generous dollop of cane syrup. As he enjoyed his breakfast, another horrible thought came to him.

"Wait—If Colonel Baird knows today is my birthday, then that means _everyone_ knows it's my birthday." He cast a suspicious glance at the Librarian. The redhead dropped her gaze and suddenly began picking invisible lint from her robe. Jenkins took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"There's going to be a party, isn't there?" the Caretaker demanded. Cassandra only widened her eyes and chewed on her lower lip as she redoubled her lint-picking. The immortal's head fell backwards as an expression of pain flooded his features.

"OH, Cassandra! _Nooooo_...!" he groaned pitifully. "Not a party!"

"It's just a _small_ party," she said defensively. "Just us, and Eve and Flynn, Jake and Ezekiel. You know—your _family_?"

Jenkins narrowed his eyes and pinned her with a stony glare.

"There's going to be _party hats_ , aren't there."

"Well, yeah—But they're very _dignified_ party hats!" she protested. "In fact, your hat isn't even really a hat at all, it's a crown. Because you're the king for today!" The Caretaker slowly thunked his head against the headboard several times in despair.

Cassandra reached over and took his hand, smiling seductively as she gazed directly into his pained brown eyes.

"There's going to be ca-a-a-ake!" she sang. "Your favorite ki-i-i-i-nd, double chocolate fu-u-u-udge!"

Jenkins stopped beating his head against the headboard and looked at her warily. "With cream cheese frosting?" he guardedly asked. The redheaded siren nodded slowly.

"Ah. I see, excellent. I shall look forward to it, then," he responded coolly. His expression, however, betrayed the fact that he would gladly crawl a mile through broken glass for double chocolate fudge cake with cream cheese frosting. _Perhaps this year's birthday will not completely suck after all_ , he thought to himself optimistically.

Jenkins finished his breakfast with gusto, sighing contentedly as Cassandra removed the tray and set it on the nightstand. She returned to the bed and sat on the edge, reaching over to stroke her knight's arm lovingly.

"Do you want your present now, or would you rather wait until later?" she asked. Jenkins seized her arm and dragged her into his lap, planting a deep, lusty kiss on her mouth and silencing her squeals of surprise.

"Now, please," he growled quietly after he finished the kiss, running his fingers through her russet locks. Cassandra snorted and gently extricated herself from his arms.

"Again: Let's save _that_ for later," she scolded him lightly. "I'm talking about your _other_ present!"

"Other present?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Jenkins would never admit it, but he loved surprises. "Now, please!" he repeated with enthusiasm.

The Librarian took his hand and tugged him out of bed. Jenkins slipped his robe on over his pajamas and then followed her to his sitting room. There, propped against his favorite armchair, was a tall, rectangular package wrapped in shiny, dark blue paper and trimmed with a silver ribbon and bow. The present was nearly as tall as Cassandra.

"Well, there it is," she said nervously. "Hope you like it. Go ahead and open it!"

Jenkins stepped forward and eagerly yanked off the ribbon, then tore open the wrapping paper. As soon as he saw what was inside, he gasped loudly and straightened up, one hand moving to cover his mouth in shock as he took several slow, involuntary steps backward. Cassandra watched, her heart sinking, as his wide brown eyes blinked rapidly against welling tears.

The package contained a portrait painted in the American Primitive style popular in the early to mid-1800's. The portrait was of three people: A man and a woman holding hands and smiling at each other, and standing between them a little girl of around five years old holding a doll and facing the viewer with wide, sparkling brown eyes, all dressed in 19th Century garb. Jenkins recognized them as himself and his murdered wife, Jane. He knew the child in the picture was meant to be their unborn daughter.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Jenkins!" Cassandra exclaimed miserably. "I thought...I didn't mean to upset you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm so sorry...!"

The pale immortal turned dazedly and looked at her blankly. As soon as her words registered with him, his expression changed. His shook his head as his face softened and he hurried to take her in his arms and hold her tightly.

"Oh, no, Cassandra!" he breathed into her hair. "No, Cassandra! I'm not upset, just surprised, that's all. How...how did you do this?!"

"Jake helped me," she replied shakily. "He hooked me up with an artist friend of his who could paint in that style, called in a favor the man owed him. I showed him a scan of your daguerreotype, and he created the painting from that. I asked him to add your daughter, and he created the image of her based on your and Jane's features. I thought...I thought you would like a family portrait, of all three of you."

She looked up into the tall man's face. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I didn't mean to make you sad, especially on your birthday. If you don't like it..."

Jenkins quickly gave her another tight hug to reassure her.

"No, Cassandra, it's beautiful," he said sincerely, his voice rough with emotion. "It's the most wonderful gift I've ever received!" He kissed the top of her head as he held her. "Thank you, my love."

The young woman hugged him back, relieved. "They're an important part of your life," she said quietly as she leaned against his chest. "You shouldn't keep them hidden away in a box."

The Caretaker stroked her red hair, struck to his very core by Cassandra's thoughtfulness. "My dearest treasure," he murmured softly, voice steady now. He released her and looked around the room. "Where do you think I should hang it?"

She backed away from him. "Over the fireplace," she said firmly. "You can put the box with the daguerreotype and Jane's lock of hair on the mantel underneath it. I think that would that be perfect."

"Over the fireplace it is, then," he agreed, then laid a hand against her soft cheek. "I really am very pleased with it, Cassandra, and very touched," he said. "It's very kind and generous of you." He bent to kiss her tenderly.

She returned his kiss, their caresses becoming more ardent as the kiss deepened. When they finally parted, Cassandra looked up into her lover's face and smiled coyly. "Would you like to open up your _other_ present now, sweetheart?"

Jenkins grinned in response. He untied and slipped Cassandra's robe from her shoulders, then slowly removed her pajamas.

"Just what I've always wanted!" he purred as he took in the lovely sight.

He picked the naked woman up and carried her back into the bedroom, kissing her as they went. When they came to the bed, he gently laid her in it, then quickly stripped off his own night clothes. As he climbed into the bed with her, Jenkins nonchalantly reached out and plucked the small pitcher of cane syrup from the breakfast tray. Cassandra saw it and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"It's my birthday," he said archly, tipping the pitcher carefully to allow a thin thread of syrup to drizzle over her plump breasts as she giggled.

"I believe I'm allowed to indulge my sweet tooth today...?"


	8. Every Day's a Holiday

Jenkins selected a large, paper-covered record from the shelf in his sitting room. Carefully slipping the heavy black disc from its sleeve, he placed it onto the turntable, made sure the speed was set at 78 rpm, then cranked the handle of the antique phonograph until it was ready to play. He carefully lowered the tungsten-tipped needle onto the record, and as the needle hissed and popped its way into the groove, he adjusted the large, flared, brass horn. Soon the warm, pleasantly tinny sound of the Glenn Miller Orchestra began to drift out and fill his sitting room with the peppy tempo of dance music comprised primarily of brass and woodwind instruments.

A few seconds later Cassandra emerged from the bathroom after her shower, clad only in a thin silk robe, her wet hair wrapped in a damp towel. Hearing the lively music coming from Jenkins's sitting room, she walked over to the open doorway and poked her head inside. Jenkins was just removing his suit coat and draping it over the back of a chair when he spotted the curious Librarian.

He hurried over and seized her hands, gently pulling the surprised woman into the room. He held one of her hands out in his while he slipped his other hand around her waist, and began to whirl her breezily around as he enticed her to dance with him in quick time with the music, the immortal taking care not to step on her bare toes. Laying his cheek against hers so that his lips were close to her ear, Jenkins began to sing to her, accompanying the female vocalist on the record.

 _There are 4th of Julys in both of your eyes and a Easter Sunday too,_

 _'Cause every day's a holiday since the day that I found you!_

 _Each heaven on earth day feels like a birthday, a May Day rendezvous,_

 _'Cause every day's a holiday since the day that I found you!_

 _They ought to hang the flags out, they ought to close the banks,_

 _And though it's not November, still I feel like giving thanks!_

 _You're a Happy New Year, a movie premiere, you're a Christmas present, too,_

 _'Cause every day's a holiday since the day that I found you!_

As the instrumentals continued, Jenkins stopped dancing and straightened up to look adoringly down into Cassandra's wide blue eyes for a moment. He bent down to give her a leisurely, tender kiss that took her breath away. She slumped weakly against him and they continued to dance, much slower now, until the music ended. She looked up into his gently smiling eyes.

"Play the record again?" she asked.

The smile moved from Jenkins's eyes to his lips as he let go of her just long enough to move the needle back to the beginning of the shellac disc, and repeated the entire performance again.

She made him play the record six more times. By then Cassandra knew the words of the simple song by heart, and they sang it lovingly to each other as they stood enfolded in each other's arms in the middle of the room, not even bothering to dance this time.


	9. Hot

The hungry Caretaker scooped a large tangle of dan-dan noodles straight from the carton into his mouth, not even bothering with a plate or a bowl. The Jade Dragon had the most authentic Chinese food in the city, in his opinion, and he had especial soft spot for their dan-dan noodles.

As he began to chew, he suddenly dropped his chopsticks and started fanning his face while sucking air into his mouth.

"Spicy! Spicy!" he happily mumbled as he frantically chewed and swallowed the fiery Szechwan fare. His nose immediately began to run and his eyes to water.

" _Ai-yaa_!" he yelped breathlessly, using the Chinese exclamation. "Those are HOT!"

"Really?" asked Cassandra. "Let me see."

As Cassandra leaned towards him, Jenkins plucked some noodles from the carton and offered them to her. Instead, she grabbed his lapel, pulled him forward and kissed him, her tongue gently brushing his for only a moment before she withdrew and leaned back slightly, her hand lingering on his cheek.

"Hmmm," she sighed thoughtfully as she eyed him coquettishly. "They're not _nearly_ as hot as you..."


	10. Christmas Fluff 1: Mistletoe

Jenkins hummed an ancient Christmas carol quietly to himself as he reshelved the various antique tomes piled on the book cart. It had always been one of the immortal's favorite carols, though he was now literally the only person on earth who knew it had even existed; it was a song that had fallen from the memory of Humankind many centuries ago.

Moving along packed shelves, he stooped to replace a book covering the life-cycle of pixies on the bottom-most shelf of the range. As he stood up, he felt something brush the top of his head. The Caretaker looked up, and was perplexed to see a sprig of mistletoe dangling over him. It was hanging from a string, which in turn was tied to a stick.

He turned around and found Cassandra Cillian standing behind him, the long stick clutched in her hands. She smiled brightly upon being discovered.

"Great flaming Yule logs, Cassandra—what on earth are you doing!?" he demanded sharply. The redhead's impish grin disappeared in the face of the immortal's startled glare.

"Get...getting you under the mistletoe. So I can kiss you," she said hurriedly, unsure of herself now.

Jenkins rolled his eyes. "And you needed a stick because...?"

"Because you're so tall—I…I can't just hold it over your head." Cassandra lowered the stick and held it close, feeling very foolish.

"I see," he rumbled shortly. He stood silently for several moments as he regarded the young woman through narrowed eyes. Abruptly he took a deep breath and raised his head.

"Wait here, please," he ordered.

The immortal left the range of books and disappeared. A few minutes later Jenkins returned, carrying a small step-stool. He set the stool down on the floor in front of Cassandra, then grasped her firmly around the waist with both hands and easily lifted the squeaking Librarian onto the step-stool.

Now even in height, Jenkins stared silently into Cassandra's confused face for a few seconds, then shrugged his broad shoulders and threw his hands up in an air of vexation.

"Well?" he barked, brown eyes widening in expectation.

"'W-well' what?" stuttered the Librarian, utterly bewildered.

The Caretaker cocked his head slightly in exasperation, then reached down and seized the sprig of mistletoe still hanging from Cassandra's stick. He snapped the string, then held the mistletoe over their heads. He shook it vigorously, sending a couple of the white berries flying.

"I'm waiting for my kiss?" he said. His tone was churlish, but Cassandra caught the mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes.

Her face lit up again as she dropped the stick and tightly grasped the lapels of his coat, then pulled him forward, planting her full, rose-colored lips firmly onto his. Their arms wound around each other as they kissed, playfully at first, then more deeply. When they broke apart, Jenkins kept his arms around her as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he murmured; his lips brushed the bridge of her nose tenderly.

"I love you more!" she giggled in reply, placing a peck on the very tip of his nose.

The sound of sniggering suddenly came from the end of the range, and peeking past Jenkins's head, Cassandra saw Jacob and Ezekiel watching them, laughing and making disgusted faces.

"Aw, MAN!" groaned Jones, followed by a gagging sound. He turned to Jacob and batted his eyes melodramatically, pitching his voice low and sarcastic as he attempted to sound like Jenkins. "I love you, Stone!" Jacob turned to Jones and batted his eyes in return, his hands clasped to his heart.

"I love you more, Jones!" he gushed in a high falsetto. The two broke down into gales of laughter.

"You guys are awful!" said Cassandra as she scowled, irritated by the interruption. Ezekiel blew a kiss at her.

"Get a room, you two!"

"Yeah, some of us are actually tryin' to get some _real_ Librarianin' done around here!" chimed in Stone, snickering.

"Mr. Jones, Mr. Stone," bellowed Jenkins loudly, not bothering to turn around. His voice was harsh and biting, but Cassandra could see only adoration in his eyes as he continued to gaze into hers. The two miscreants instantly fell silent.

"With all of this time for pantomime that you seem to have on your hands now, perhaps you can start mucking out the manticore barn as you were instructed to do several days ago?" he inquired sternly.

The sound of a fist punching an arm came to the Caretaker's ears.

"Nice job, Jones!" Jacob growled unhappily as he turned and started to stalk away.

"OW! Hey! Don't blame me, mate! 'Some of us are actually tryin' to get some real Librarianin' done here!'" he mimicked sourly. "Really?!"

"And take care not to let him bite you!" Jenkins called out to the grousing pair. "He's on a strict, human flesh-free diet, and I don't need the two of you making him ill!"

As the two young men trudged off, Jenkins pulled his Librarian close.

"Now, my love, where were we? Ah, yes..." The long fingers of one hand wove themselves into the long russet locks at the back of her head as he leaned forward to kiss her again. 


	11. Christmas Fluff 2: Peppermint

Cassandra perched herself on the long wooden table in the middle of the Annex workroom, on the end facing Jenkins's tall desk. Cassandra had been working hard all morning, trying to understand and to control her new, enhanced mental gifts and finding their limits. It was an exhausting task, and right now she was in the mood for some fun.

Jenkins was sitting hunched at his desk, still deeply engrossed in a large, thick book that he'd been reading all morning. The Librarian reached into the waistband of her short skirt and pulled out a long, thick, straight rod of peppermint candy. She opened the cellophane and very slowly peeled it from the stick of candy, intentionally making as much noise with the crackling plastic as she could.

The Caretaker became vaguely aware of an irritating sound coming from somewhere in front of him as he read. He quickly finished the paragraph he was on, then placed his finger on the next paragraph to mark his stopping place. He looked up in irritation for the offending noise, sure that somehow Mr. Jones or Mr. Stone were responsible. He was surprised to see Cassandra sitting on the table in front of him, her long legs crossed prettily so that he could see them to their best advantage. The Librarian had a large peppermint stick in her hand; as soon as she saw Jenkins looking at her, she deliberately brought the candy to her lips and began to lick it, slowly dragging her tongue along the length of the shaft at first and then lingering at the very end of it.

He quickly looked around the room at the others, but no one else seemed to be paying any attention. He shot the Librarian a disapproving look and then forced his eyes back to the vellum pages on his desk.

After several minutes, he had the feeling that he was still being watched. He knew it was Cassandra, and he tried to ignore her, but it was impossible. He looked up again. This time she began to swirl her tongue slowly around the tip of the peppermint stick. Her blue eyes burned into his brown ones as he helplessly watched the pink tip of her tongue seductively circle the candy, his mouth suddenly dry and slightly agape. She slowly uncrossed her legs and positioned herself so that he could peek up her skirt. His eyes widened in shock—he could swear that she wasn't wearing any panties! A thrill went up the immortal's spine as he realized with an even greater shock that the peppermint stick was of roughly the same girth and length as a certain part of his anatomy.

Jenkins quickly bent his head low as he wrenched his eyes back to the book, this time shielding them with one hand placed at his forehead. He read the same sentence at least a dozen times without having any idea what the words were saying. Succumbing to temptation, he finally raised his head just enough to see Cassandra. She was now very slowly sucking on the candy stick, rhythmically pushing it deeply into her mouth and then drawing it out again, her eyes closed, a look of ecstasy on her face. He instantly felt a warm ache ignite in his groin and spread outward.

Jenkins lurched clumsily to his feet, the long-empty china teacup and saucer clattering loudly as he snatched them from his desk. Eve and the others looked up from their various projects at the sound.

"I need to get me some!" he blurted nervously and far too loudly. "TEA! TEA, I mean—I just need to get me some TEA!" He held up the cup and saucer as proof, grinning like a skull.

Jones snorted. "You might wanna start going the caffeine-free route, mate," he offered sarcastically before returning his attention to his phone.

Jenkins quickly left the workroom and headed for the kitchen. A few minutes later, Cassandra slid off the table and lazily ambled after him, still licking the peppermint stick. As she entered the kitchen, Jenkins wrapped his arm around her waist and jerked her roughly into his arms.

"You wicked, brazen little minx!" he hissed, then kissed her. She tasted like peppermint. Her lips were still sticky and sweet from the candy, and he took his time licking and sucking the sugar from them. He sighed into her as his tongue slipped between her small, perfect teeth and teased hers. When they finally parted, Cassandra's hands slid down his back and under the tails of his coat, where she began to tug his shirt out of his trousers.

"And what do you think you're doing?" he muttered breathlessly, his lips lightly kissing her throat. Cassandra smiled sweetly.

"I've been hard at work all morning," she whined in exaggerated petulance, nuzzling into his shoulder. "You're the Caretaker; I need some caretaking."

"Indeed?" he said softly, then heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose duty calls, then." He bent over and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder as she squealed and giggled, still clutching the peppermint stick. He pushed open the kitchen door and headed into the hallway. As he strode quickly towards their bedroom, they met Eve and Flynn on their way to the kitchen.

"Colonel, Mr. Carsen," he greeted them pleasantly as he carried the squirming, shrieking Librarian past them. The Librarian and the Guardian stopped in their tracks, Eve immediately on the alert.

"Jenkins, what's going on?" she demanded. The tall man never slowed his pace.

"Not a thing, Colonel," he assured her breezily, calling over his shoulder. "Simply a case of a Caretaker's work never being finished, that's all."

Flynn grinned widely as he realized what was happening. "Good man, Jenkins! Make sure Cassandra gets everything she needs!"

"Indeed I shall, sir," the immortal called back. He turned his head and addressed Cassandra, just loudly enough for her to hear.

"Everything she needs, and _then_ some," he growled lustily, then smacked her bottom with his free hand as he smiled in anticipation.


	12. Christmas Fluff 3: Hot Chocolate

Cassandra lifted the quilt so that Jenkins could sit down next to her on the sofa. The Caretaker sat down carefully, taking care not to spill any of the frothy Mexican hot chocolate in the two mugs he was carrying. He handed one mug to Cassandra; she took a sip and hummed in appreciation as she licked the thick foam from her upper lip. Jenkins set his own mug on the end table next to the sofa, removed his suit coat and settled in. The redheaded Librarian covered them both with the quilt, then snuggled up to Jenkins, making herself comfortable as she lay against his side.

"Ready?" she asked excitedly. He nodded, smiling as he quickly dug his handkerchief out of his trousers pocket. He laid the cloth on the table next to the mug of chocolate, where he could easily reach it when needed. He draped his left arm around Cassandra as she raised the remote control and hit the 'play' button.

The latest Christmas-themed treacle from the Hallmark Channel sprang to life on the large screen in the Library's theater. Jenkins took a deep breath and prepared himself for the next two hours crammed full of ridiculous, sugary-sweet, melodramatic romance and the inevitable, florid happy ending.

He _hated_ these silly movies with every fiber of his being. He would sooner have faced an entire pack of hellhounds with a raw pork chop tied around his neck than to have to watch even one of these saccharin bits of nonsense, but Cassandra absolutely adored them. She looked forward to them every year, and it made her even happier to watch them every holiday season if she could finagle Jenkins into sitting next to her on the sofa with a mug of homemade hot chocolate.

As if the movie itself wasn't bad enough, there was Cassandra's reaction to it. Tears, tears, and more tears! He knew that by the end of the evening she would be a sniffling, sobbing, eye-dabbing, emotional mess, and his handkerchief—not to mention a goodly portion of his shirt—would be soaked.

But even so, he didn't have the heart to refuse her. It was such a small thing that brought her so much joy—how could he possibly say no? So this year he silenced that part of him that wanted to run screaming from the theater, hugged his beloved Librarian closer to himself, sipped his hot chocolate and held his tongue.

As Cassandra focused on the movie, Jenkins focused on her. He found himself spending the time simply enjoying being with Cassandra. He watched her watching the movie, memorizing every line of her lovely face, every expression. He relished the warmth of her small body against his, deeply breathed in the sweet floral scent of her hair, the faint spicy-citrus scent of her perfume.

He counted the number of quiet breaths she took as she watched the film, adjusted his arm slightly so that he could feel her heart beating against it. He stroked her soft skin, played with her silky red locks, dotted her high, fine forehead periodically with whisper-light little kisses. He held her tiny, delicate hand in his own large, calloused one, smiling at her bright, intricately-painted nails. It always amazed him how small and frail she appeared, yet how strong and resilient she was in reality. The only thing that amazed him more was that she had fallen in love with him—out of all the men in the world, she had chosen _him_. That thought always made his ancient heart physically ache with love for her.

As the movie ended Cassandra sat up, sniffling loudly and blotting the tears from her eyes and cheeks, happy that the heroine had once again found her true love. When she had gotten herself pulled together, she turned to the quiet knight next to her and smiled sheepishly. Utterly charmed, Jenkins took her in his arms and kissed her—slowly, deeply and tenderly, childishly delighted by the taste of chocolate and cinnamon on her tongue.

Surprised by the unexpected kiss, when he let her go she looked up into his eyes, her own wide and still damp with tears.

"Wow! What brought that on?" she murmured, dropping her gaze again and grinning bashfully.

"Love," he whispered simply in answer, then tipped her face up with a finger so he could kiss her again.


	13. Christmas Fluff 4: Snow

As he approached the front door of the Annex, Jenkins stopped for a moment, put down the battered old snow shovel he was carrying, and adjusted his scarf and coat to make sure he was bundled up against the cold air outside. He opened the door and picked up the shovel, then stepped out into the winter wonderland that had enveloped the Annex overnight.

It had been a long time since he'd last had to shovel snow. Until the young Librarians arrived, he usually just stayed shut up inside the Annex during the cold winter season, reading, tinkering and experimenting the long hours away by himself in silence. _Those days are long gone now_ , he thought, shaking his head.

Today Cassandra and Eve wanted to drive into Portland to do some Christmas shopping, and so Jenkins was doing the gentlemanly thing for the two women: Shoveling the snow off of the walkway from the front door to the driveway, and making sure that the station wagon was gassed and warmed up for them.

The Caretaker stood outside in the sharp winter air for a moment as he took in the beautiful scenery. It had snowed during the night, and now the surrounding landscape was blanketed in pure, pristine, perfectly white snow. He suspected that Cassandra would squeal and clap her hands in delight as soon as she saw it—it was just the sort of thing that would set off such an unseemly display. He smiled at the scene as it played out in his mind.

He prepared to begin removing the snow from the walkway when he noticed fresh footprints in the otherwise flawless surface. One set of small, booted feet, going _away_ from the Annex, but not returning. It had to be Cassandra.

Jenkins flinched and yelped involuntarily as a clump of snow suddenly struck his chest, his eyes automatically closing to keep out the spray as the snow exploded outward. When he opened them, he looked around for the culprit, but could see no one. He _did_ hear a very familiar giggle, however, seeping out from behind a nearby oak tree.

"I hear you, Cassandra Cillian!" he thundered menacingly. The giggle turned into a musical laugh.

"You come out here where I can see you this instant!" he ordered. Cassandra popped out from behind the tree and threw another snowball, hitting him in the shoulder this time.

"I'm _warning_ you, Miss Cillian," he called sternly, brusquely brushing the snow from his coat. "Don't start something that you cannot possibly finish!"

For a third time a snowball flew through the air, this one pegging the immortal squarely in the middle of his forehead. He dropped the shovel in surprise and began digging the snow out of his eyes. As soon as he could see again, he slowly bent down and gathered up two large handfuls of snow. He stood up and began to pack it into a hard, smooth ball, walking towards the oak tree as he worked.

"Very well," he yelled. "You want a war, a war is what you'll get!" He burst into a run towards the tree. Cassandra, who had been peering around the trunk and watching him, took off at a run away from the big man, laughing and taunting him as she went.

It wasn't much a chase. Jenkins's long legs soon caught up to the shrieking woman. He hurled the snowball, striking her right between the shoulder blades, just hard enough to throw her off-balance. She fell over face-first into the thick layer of snow on the ground.

Jenkins was on her in a moment. Standing over the redhead as she laughed uncontrollably, he reached down and grabbed the collar of her coat. He began furiously stuffing snow down her back, causing Cassandra to scream and laugh even harder as the cold, icy slush melted against her shocked skin. When she rolled over onto her back, he began stuffing snow down the front of her clothes. Cassandra was laughing, spluttering and shouting "Uncle!" so loudly that she could hardly breathe.

Jenkins let her go and started to stand up straight, but the Librarian reached out and grabbed his coat. She twisted to one side and kicked one of his feet out from under him and dragging him down into the churned-up snow with her. Quick as a cat she was astride the struggling immortal, shouting with glee as she now began stuffing snow down the front of HIS coat. The Caretaker howled in protest as the snow worked its way beneath his collar and down his chest.

He seized Cassandra's arms and easily rolled her again onto her back, pinning her to the icy ground. He braced himself on his elbows so that his full weight wasn't resting on her, both of them laughing and panting for air. Impulsively, Jenkins dropped his head and kissed the Librarian. She returned his kiss, each taking turns gently biting the other's lower lip, their breath hanging in the chill air around their heads. When they finally parted, he nuzzled her cold cheek with his.

"Do you yield, Miss Cillian?" he rumbled into her ear.

"I give up!" she blurted between giggles, her eyes sparkling happily. With a look of triumph on his face, Jenkins gave her a quick peck on her nose, then released her arms and began to stand up. But the treacherous Librarian again pulled him down onto the ground, this time rubbing handfuls of snow into his white hair before scrambling to her feet and sprinting away from him as fast as she could. Jenkins, shaking the snowmelt out of his hair like a wet dog as he lumbered to his own feet, loped off after her, shouting dire, laughing threats of where HE was going to put snow when he caught her.

From the front door of the Annex, Eve Baird watched the pair, a grin on her face. There was also a lump in her throat as she wondered—when was the last time Jenkins had been in a snowball fight? Or when had Cassandra last laughed so hard? Or when had _either_ of the two last felt so happy and carefree…?


	14. Christmas Fluff 5: Christmas Party

The oddly matched pair was moving slowly together on the wooden, parquet floor of the Annex workroom, each loosely holding the other in their arms. The tall elderly man's silver-gray head was lightly resting on top of the deep rust-colored head of the much shorter and younger woman leaning against his chest. Each had closed eyes and wore a faint smile of contentment as they gently swayed to and fro, while Nat King Cole softly crooned "The Christmas Song" in the background.

Surrounding the dancers were the remains of the Annex family's Christmas party—leftover serving dishes of food on the tables, dirty cups, glasses and plates scattered around the room, torn wrapping paper and discarded bows and ribbon littering the floor and desks. After the harrowing year they'd had with the loss of Charlene, the near-loss of Cassandra, the near-apocalypse with Apep and the DOSA raid, the team had been more than ready for a celebration, even Eve Baird.

The entire day was packed full of decorating, gift wrapping and exchanging, cooking, eating, teasing, laughing, toasting and drinking of Flynn's mother's special homemade egg-nog— _heavily_ laced with far more rum than the recipe called for, thanks to Ezekiel and his illicit flask. The others had gone home hours ago, tired, sleepy and happy. The next day Flynn and Eve were going to fly out to Eve's family's home to spend some of the holiday, while Jacob was taking Ezekiel with him back to Oklahoma to visit some of the more pleasant Stone relations.

The old Regulator clock on the wall chimed out the hour: Two o'clock in the morning.

Jenkins and Cassandra were tired and sleepy, too, but it was the best Christmas party they'd each been to in a _very_ long time, and neither was ready for the evening to end just yet. So now they danced, alone and silent, with no thought other than how happy they were in this moment.

Nat King Cole finished his song, and was followed by the sultry voice of Eartha Kitt singing the decidedly un-Christmasy "C'est Si Bon".

Jenkins instantly took up the song. With exaggerated movements he danced Cassandra around the room, twirling and dipping her low to the floor several times as he sang along in flawless French, waggling his eyebrows roguishly and trying to make his voice sound as sultry and exotic as the chanteuse's. The Librarian laughed at the hammy performance, which eventually ended with Jenkins dipping her so low to the floor that she was literally laying on it. Rather than lift her back upright, the immortal let go of her and dropped onto the floor himself with a sigh, sitting next to the prone woman as her laughter died down to soft giggles.

She sat up facing him, and he leaned forward quickly to steal a kiss. "I have something for you," he said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed and her smile turned slightly wicked as her hand reached out to lightly stroke his chest. "Jenkins, you animal!" she purred. "Right here? On the workroom floor?"

He rolled his brown eyes at the redhead as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Not _that_ , you insatiable creature," he chided playfully. "I mean I have a gift."

"But you already gave me a present," she protested, puzzled. At the group's gift exchange, Jenkins had given her a gorgeously bound book of mathematical poetry.

The immortal ducked his head, suddenly shy. "This is rather a more intimate gift. I didn't want to give it to you in front of everyone else; I'm afraid it's been rather a long time since I last gave a lady a gift, and I fear I may be somewhat ignorant of what appeals to women nowadays. I didn't want to put you on the spot in front of the others, in case you didn't like it."

Cassandra smiled at the combination of gallantry and schoolboy bashfulness he exhibited, and she laid her hand on his. "That's nonsense, sweetheart," she reassured him. "You could wrap up a big box of dog poop and I would still love it!" Jenkins looked up, his face brightening.

"Really? I'll remember that next year when your birthday comes around," he teased. Cassandra punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Ouch!" he whined pathetically.

"So where's my present?" the Cassandra chirped excitedly.

Jenkins slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small package, wrapped in bright, shiny red wrapping paper and tied with a gold ribbon.

Cassandra broke into a grin and briefly clapped her hands before she snatched the gift from his hand. While she eagerly tore into the ribbon and paper, the immortal made a great show of checking his hand to make sure none of his fingers had gone missing

Gingerly lifting the lid off of little red box inside, Cassandra caught her breath. Inside was a beautiful, delicately-wrought gold pendant on a matching chain. The pendant, about the size of a quarter, depicted two birds in the intricate Celtic style, each bird with its long neck, wings and legs entwined with the other, their foreheads lightly touching. Combined, the two birds formed the lacy outline of a heart.

"Those are cranes," he murmured reticently, watching for her reaction. "In the legends of my homeland, cranes were the wisest of creatures, possessing great learning and wisdom, and knowledge of magic."

He tried to look into her eyes, but couldn't. He fixed his eyes, instead, on the shining gold in her hands as his voice became barely audible. "But most importantly—because they mate for life—they symbolize fidelity and enduring love."

As Jenkins fell silent, Cassandra's hand unconsciously covered her mouth as she struggled against the tears that were threatening to fall. This was the first "lovers" gift he had given her since they began their relationship, and the truth be told, it was also the first one _she_ had ever received. She knew Jenkins well enough by now to know that he'd probably spent days agonizing over just the right gift—something from his heart, chosen just for her, with a meaning that only they two would share. Such thoughtfulness and care on her account touched the young woman deeply.

"Jenkins, it's beautiful!" she whispered hoarsely. "Where on earth did you find it?"

"I had it made, just for you," he said, relief mixed with a bit of pride in his voice. Cassandra scrambled to her knees and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you, Jenkins!" she breathed into his ear. "It's perfect!"

The immortal returned her embrace. "You're welcome, my treasure," he whispered in response. As they withdrew from one other, he fished his faithful handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to the Librarian to dab her eyes.

"Now, please don't feel like you have to wear that all of the time, just to please me," he hurried to tell her. "I know you have a veritable pirate's chest full of baubles and accessories to match that charming wardrobe of yours. Wear it only when it pleases you, it won't hurt my feelings at all."

" _Really_ , Jenkins?" she said, giving him a mock-critical look. "You KNOW I'm putting this on right now and I'm NEVER taking it off! Help me the clasp?" He took the necklace from her as she scooted her back around to him and lifted her hair off of her neck. Jenkins quickly put the pendant around her neck and fastened it. As she admired it, he slipped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck and ear from behind. Cassandra turned her head and gave him a light kiss on his lips.

"You know," he said as he nibbled her earlobe. "I think I DO have something else for you, after all." The redhead grinned at the naughtiness she knew he had in mind.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked readily. "Can you give it to me here, or do we have to go someplace else?"

"I'll give it to you wherever you like, my love," he whispered fervently into her ear.

She turned her head and eyed him slyly. "Can you give it to me over there, on top of Ezekiel's desk?"

Jenkins grinned broadly as he looked up toward the ceiling and tightened his arms around her midsection.

"Oh, _absolutely_ , my dear!" he crowed, appreciating the sheer juvenile mischievousness of her idea. "In fact, I _insist_ upon it!"


	15. Christmas Fluff 6 Capezzoli di Venere

"Omigosh, Jenkins—look at these!" whispered Cassandra as she tugged urgently on her tall companion's coat sleeve. He turned and bent down to peer into the glass display case. As soon as he saw what she was pointing at, a sly smile came to his face.

"Ah! Capezzoli di Venere!" he said longingly. He turned to the young woman next to him and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "'Nipples of Venus' in English."

"I guess that explains why they look like boobs!" snickered the Librarian quietly. She'd been happy to accompany Jenkins as he picked up some items he needed for the lab. Since they were in the area he'd suggested stopping in at one of his favorite confectioners, a family-owned business that had been in in the United States for over 200 years. He still fondly remembered the opening day of the family's very first shop, in New York City in the summer of 1800. He had a particular weakness for their special candies and cakes that were available only at Christmastime.

"What's in them?" Cassandra asked curiously, bending low to more closely examine the plum-sized treats. Jenkins's face took on a dreamy expression and his voice filled with nostalgia as he listed the ingredients.

"The filling is made of pureed chestnuts, butter, sugar, vanilla and brandy, all mixed with melted bittersweet chocolate. That is all then rolled into balls before being dipped into a delightful white chocolate, each tipped with a bit of colored white chocolate so they look like firm, perfect little breasts." He lowered his lips close to her ear.

"But, of course, they don't come close to matching your own lovely breasts in perfection and sweetness," he murmured, his voice smooth as velvet. Cassandra bit her lower lip and blushed, quickly looking around to make sure no one else had overheard him.

Jenkins chuckled and turned back to the counter to order a dozen of the candies from the salesperson. After making the purchase the elderly man took the box from the woman, then he and Cassandra went to a nearby café for a leisurely lunch.

As they sat with coffee at the end of their meal, Jenkins brought the pretty green box up to the table and carefully opened it, offering her one of the confections. He took one as well. Cassandra bit into hers, humming quietly as the sweet, rich, buttery filling began to melt on her tongue.

"Mmmmmmm! Jenkins, this is _incredible_!" She closed her eyes, savoring the flavors.

Hearing no response from the Caretaker, she opened her eyes to look at him. They popped open in astonishment and she nearly choked on her candy as she saw him firmly holding the base of his capezzoli in his fingertips, his eyes boring steadily into her own as the tip of his tongue began playing lazily around the pink candy 'nipple' perched on top.

The Librarian's hand flew to cover her mouth and she whipped her head to look around the cafe, checking to see if any of the other customers could see what he was doing, but no one else seemed to notice Jenkins's salacious activity.

"What are you doing?!" she hissed in panic. He merely cocked his head and widened his eyes, then began licking the sugary 'breast' seductively, a low, quiet, growling moan coming from deep in his throat.

Cassandra sucked in her breath at the sound, a warmth suddenly sparking to life in her loins and sending a little electric tingle throughout her body.

"Will you _please_ stop that!" she whispered frantically. "Somebody will see you!"

"It's my candy," he stated blithely, his relentless eyes never leaving her face. "I paid for it, I'll enjoy it as I see fit." His eyes narrowed. "Just as _you_ do with your peppermint sticks." He began to lightly kiss and nibble the outside of the capezzoli, his eyes fluttering closed. He gave a soft, sighing groan.

"That was in the Annex!" she muttered desperately. "But we're out in _public_ now!" Jenkins merely shrugged his shoulders and continued to enjoy his capezolli as he saw fit.

Feeling too warm and slightly light-headed, Cassandra tried to stop his shenanigans by kicking him under the table; he grunted as she connected with his shin, and he shot her a look of indignation.

"Just for that, I think I'm going to start calling you 'sugar tits'," he said snippily.

"Don't you DARE!" she yelped loudly. She looked around again, mortified, to make sure no one had heard her.

"Fine," the immortal agreed petulantly. "'Sugar _boobs_ ', then."

"JENKINS!"

He heaved a sigh, mock exasperation all over his face. "Honestly, Cassandra! First you say I'm too parochial regarding sexual matters, but now you're unhappy when I try to be more open and expressive!" He shook his head disparagingly.

"There just doesn't seem to be any pleasing you," he lamented. "I suppose, then, I'll just have to be content with doing what pleases _me_." He proceeded to place the entire top half of the capezzoli into his mouth and began to suck on it languorously, eyes closed, head slightly back, while small, quiet grunts of pleasure came from his throat.

Cassandra felt her face flush hotly, and not just out of embarrassment. She got up suddenly from the table, started putting on her coat and gathering her things.

"I'm going back to the Annex!" she snapped, then turned and rushed out of the café before Jenkins could react or say anything.

The Caretaker looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the episode, and was relieved to see that no one was paying him any attention. He popped the rest of the capezzoli into his mouth and chewed it slowly, a pang of remorse stinging him.

Perhaps he HAD gone a bit overboard with his 'revenge'. He certainly hadn't meant to humiliate Cassandra, just give her a small taste of her own medicine. She seemed to have a knack for seductive teasing that he clearly did _not_ possess. He sighed as he stood up and slipped into his coat. He gathered his own parcels and paid the bill for lunch, then made his own way back to the Annex. He needed to find Cassandra and apologize.

About fifteen minutes later he stepped through the back door leading into the Annex. No one else was in the workroom. He stopped by the lab and dropped off the supplies he'd bought before heading for his and Cassandra's rooms, the box of trouble-making capezzoli still in his hand.

He entered their bedroom from the hallway entrance, but the Librarian wasn't there. He noticed that the door to her sitting room was closed now; she'd left it open this morning when they left to go shopping. He quickly walked to the door and tapped on it lightly.

"Cassandra?" he called, contrition in his voice.

"What do you want?" she answered, a note of pique in her tone.

"May I come in, please, my dear? I want to apologize for my behavior in the restaurant."

There was a long pause. "The door's open," she finally said. Jenkins took a deep breath as he turned the knob.

He pushed the heavy door in and stepped across the threshold. "Cassandra, please, forgive me for…"

The immortal stopped in his tracks, the box containing the rest of the capezzolis slipping from his suddenly lifeless fingers and hitting the floor with a hollow thud.

Alluringly stretched out on her favorite chaise lounge was his Librarian, completely naked, save for an enchanting smile—and three large, red, strategically-placed Christmas bows.

"Ohhh! The capezzolis are all spoiled now!" she pouted prettily, then narrowed her eyes and purred like a kitten. "Would you like to sample one of mine instead?"

Jenkins slowly nodded his head mutely. Cassandra smiled and lazily stretched her arms over her head, arching her back; every inch of her looked like the Goddess of Love herself. The enthralled immortal's mouth fell open, and his seductress laughed, a sound like tinkling chimes.

"Well, then, why don't you come over here and unwrap them, sweetheart…?"


	16. Christmas Fluff 7 Wassail

For the delightful Austen95 in answer to her tumblr ask for a "Seductive Casskins Kiss".

The exhausted Librarian carefully opened the bedroom door and slipped inside, careful not to make any noise. This had been one of the crappiest days she'd ever had as a Librarian. She and the boys had been up more than twelve hours straight working on a particularly difficult case, and the three young Librarians had ended up at each other's throats due to the stress involved. They'd gotten into a huge argument over how to handle the case, with no clear resolution. So the case was still unsolved, and now they were barely speaking to each other. To top everything off, she'd missed a date night with Jenkins. She was ready to simply flop into bed, snuggle up to her Caretaker and pass out for a few hours.

She tiptoed across the large Persian carpet that covered most of the hardwood floor on her way to the bed in the center of the far wall. She quickly undressed in the dark, not bothering with putting on a nightgown. She felt her way to her side of the bed and slipped beneath the thick blankets, then scooched over to Jenkins's side to give the sleeping man a little good-night kiss and cuddle up next to him. Cassandra kept moving further and further across the mattress, carefully feeling for him, but to her surprise he was nowhere to be found. She sat up and crawled back to her side of the bed and turned on the small lamp on her nightstand. Jenkins wasn't here; in fact, his side of the bed hadn't even been disturbed.

Concerned, Cassandra climbed out of bed and slipped into her robe and slippers. Perhaps he was in the lab. Maybe he'd become distracted by an experiment and simply lost track of the time…

As she headed for the door that led into the corridor, her eye caught the thin crack of dim light coming from beneath the closed door leading to Jenkins's sitting room. Changing direction, the Librarian stood outside the door and knocked gently.

"Jenkins?" she called softly. "Are you in there?" She received no answer.

Trying the knob, she found the door unlocked, so she pushed it open. Inside the large, dark-paneled room, she found him, next to a low-burning fire in the fireplace. He was slumped back into his favorite armchair, his long legs and feet propped up on an ottoman, one arm dangling loosely over the arm of the chair, an open book laying on his chest. He was fast asleep.

Smiling at the sight, Cassandra crept over to the slumbering immortal. A warm cinnamony scent drifted out of a pot hanging from an iron hook over the fire. She peeked inside—it was still half-full of hot, spiced, hard cider. Jenkins called it 'wassail' when he told her he was going to make a batch for their date night—a few precious quiet hours spent together in front of a cozy fire. Apparently he had already enjoyed some of it. Alone. The young librarian felt a stab of guilt.

Sighing softly to herself, she stepped forward and gently lifted the heavy—and priceless—book from his chest. She made sure to slip his bookmark into it before closing it and setting it on the coffee table. She untied his shoes and removed them, then loosened his necktie and the first few buttons of his shirt. She lifted his hanging arm and placed it in his lap, then went to fetch a blanket from the linen closet and spread it over him, carefully tucking it in around him.

Before she headed off to bed, Cassandra stood next to Jenkins regarding him for a moment, then ladled some of the wassail into a mug sitting on the coffee table. She sat down on the table and sipped the hot drink, watching the Caretaker as he slept peacefully.

 _How much he's seen in his long life_ , she thought. All of the experiences he's had, all of the places he's visited, all of the history he's witnessed and participated in, all of the people he's known. All of the women.

The Librarian took a swallow of her drink. He'd known queens, princesses—some of the richest, most glamorous, powerful, beautiful women in the world. The redhead sighed again. And here he'd ended up with _her_ , a nerdy high school drop-out, a janitor. A nobody. She wasn't even a very good Librarian.

And yet Jenkins treated her like she _was_ a queen, and she knew that he loved her with all his heart. She wasn't sure what exactly it had been about him that had attracted her when they first met; perhaps it was the fact that she sensed a kind, gentle, sweet man underneath that hard shell of bitterness, sadness and loneliness that surrounded him. She knew what that felt like, so maybe it was natural that she gravitated towards him.

He'd kept her at arm's length at first, just like he did the others, but she soon noticed little things between them. He could be gruff and harshly sarcastic with the others, but with her he was more good-naturedly teasing. He seemed quietly pleased whenever she touched his arm or kissed his cheek. He even joked with her when they were alone, something he never did with the others. He was always there for her when she needed him, always had words of encouragement and comfort for her when she was feeling down, words of advice when she was confused. Sometimes she feared she would wake up one morning to find that this was all a dream, that the Library wasn't real, the others weren't real. That Jenkins and his love had never been real.

Blinking back the tears that were stinging her eyes and taking a deep breath, she gulped down the rest of the wassail and set the mug down on the table, then cast her eyes towards the ceiling.

"Ray, if you can hear me—thank you for bringing me and Jenkins together," she said quietly. The young redhead stood and went to Jenkins's side. She gently ran her fingers through his soft white hair as she looked on his tranquil face. Bending down, her lips lightly brushed his cheek. The Caretaker's eyes fluttered open, and when he saw her standing over him, he smiled.

"Awakened with a kiss," he said groggily. "Now I know how Sleeping Beauty felt!" Cassandra smiled in return, but even in his drowsy state he could see sadness in her eyes. Quickly straightening up in the oversized chair, he lifted the blanket and patted the seat cushion next to him.

"Come, sit with me, my dear," he invited, sensing that she needed some 'tlc'. As the Librarian climbed into the chair, Jenkins leaned back and put his free arm around his beloved. There was just enough room for the two of them if they snuggled close together. He wrapped the blanket around them, the immortal nuzzling the side of her head as he settled into the chair with her.

"I love you," he whispered. Cassandra burrowed into his side as he kissed her head and stroked her soft, red hair. "I'm sorry I fell asleep before you came home."

Cassandra raised her head. "That's okay," she replied. "The case is taking a lot longer to solve than we thought it would. I'm sorry I got back too late; I was really looking forward to spending the evening with you in front of a nice fire."

"Well," he said brightly, refreshed by his nap. "Some cases take longer than others to resolve. Some cases are much more stressful than others. Tempers fray..." Cassandra looked back at him.

"How did you know?" she asked in amazement. The older man chuckled softly.

"You just told me, my dear. Between the tension I can feel in your body and the positively miserable look on your face, you've clearly had a bad day," he murmured, hugging her close, comfortingly.

"I can build up the fire again, and we have plenty of wassail left." He rumbled as he nuzzled her cheek and jawline, tickling her with tiny kisses along the way. "I think we can still salvage the evening, don't you, my dear?" he breathed into her hair.

Cassandra smiled as the immortal's lips teased her skin. "You really think so?" she asked lightly. "What on earth could we do _this_ late at night?"

Jenkins shifted his position in the chair so that he could more easily look into her face. He tipped her chin up as he lowered his head. Her eyes closed and he softly kissed first one lid, then the other. He kissed the bridge of her nose, then the tip. His lips found hers, and as one hand cradled the back of her head, he kissed her. His other hand slowly drifted down the length of her body, coming to rest on her upper thigh; he was delighted to feel that she had nothing on beneath her robe. He lightly bit her full lower lip, a soft, low growl in his throat.

His hand burned on her thigh, evaporating the overwhelming stress of the day. Cassandra sighed into him as his tongue probed between her teeth and brushed against hers. She tasted sweetly of the apple-cinnamon of the wassail, and it spurred him to kiss her even more deeply.

She whimpered softly in response to his ardor and kissed him back, her heart racing as she lost herself in his embrace. She roughly combed her fingers into his hair, eagerly nipping and sucking his tongue and lip before letting the tip of her tongue tease the roof of his mouth. Jenkins finally ended the kiss by retracing his path back up her delicate nose to kiss her eyelids again. He raised his head to look into her beautiful blue eyes.

"Does that answer your question, my love?" he murmured. The Librarian nodded, grinning as she gently pulled his head down again for another of his slow, deliciously seductive kisses.


	17. Christmas Fluff 8 Ice Skating

The Librarian and the Caretaker of the Metropolitan Public Library walked slowly along the sidewalk, taking in the bright, colorful holiday lights and window-shopping. To outsiders, they looked like nothing more than an elderly man and his daughter out for a pleasant stroll on this crisp winter evening. But in actuality they were deeply in love with one another. In the past, one season was very much like another to Jenkins, one year bleeding into another, barely noticed or counted. But that all changed with the arrival of Cassandra Cillian.

It was her idea to go for a walk through the city, to view the cheerful Christmas lights, to see the special, elaborate displays in the shop windows, to soak in the spirit of the holiday season. Jenkins was reluctant at first, but all Cassandra had to do was look up into his eyes with her own wide, pleading ones, and any resistance he had vanished. Now they walked, arm in arm, the young woman squealing periodically in excitement over some especially eye-catching display. Jenkins eventually found himself caught up in her infectious delight. It was one of the reasons why he loved her so much; despite his great age, she always managed to make him feel young and hopeful again.

She practically danced with glee when she spied an outdoor skating rink. She asked Jenkins if they could go, and of course he couldn't refuse her. She ran off to rent the skates; when she returned a few minutes later with _two_ pairs of skates, he was horrified.

"I don't know how to skate!" he protested in alarm as the redhead pushed him down onto a bench and began untying his shoes. She stopped and looked up at him, incredulous.

"You've _never_ skated?"

"Never!" he affirmed.

"Seriously? In over 1,500 years, you've really NEVER gone ice skating?"

"Never!" A impish smile bloomed on her face.

"Then I think it's about time you learned!" she stated determinedly, and resumed pulling his shoes off.

"Cassandra, no!" he objected again, but to no effect. She already had one skate on him and laced up.

"Why not?" she asked, not looking up from her work. "Are you afraid of falling? Don't worry, between your suit and your overcoat, you've got so many layers of clothes on you probably won't even feel it!"

She finished lacing him into the second skate, then put on her own ice skates. She popped up from the bench and held out her hands to him. Jenkins refused to take them.

"This is a very bad idea, Cassandra!" he said anxiously.

"Oh, come on, Jenkins! Please?" she coaxed the stubborn man. "You might like it! You'll never know unless you try!" She grabbed his hands and tugged on him, deliberately widening her eyes and giving him her best puppy dog look. " _Please_?"

The immortal's head fell back limply and his eyes closed in surrender.

"Oh, very well," he whined. He let her help him get shakily to his feet, the skates feeling strange and unreliable beneath his large frame.

"But if I fall through the ice and freeze to death, I just want you to know that I _will_ haunt you! Relentlessly! For the rest of your life!" Cassandra rolled her eyes at his melodramatic threat.

"Okay, first of all—you're immortal, remember? Secondly, it's a man-made rink; you can't possibly fall _through_ the ice!"

"I'm only _semi_ -immortal," he reminded her testily. "I could fall and crack my skull open on the ice, bleed to death right there, my brains _everywhere_!" He spread his arms wide to illustrate the potential level of gore. "And I _will_ haunt you, relent—"

"Oh, _shush_ , you big wimp!" she interrupted. "Some knight of the Round Table you are! What was on your coat of arms—a big, flapping chicken?" The look of shock and indignation on his face made her burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, giving him a quick peck on his cheek. "That was mean. You're not a chicken, but you don't have anything to worry about, either. Come on, I'll help you onto the ice. And I'll be right next to you the whole time!"

Jenkins clutched her hands tightly as they shuffled carefully onto the ice. Giggling, Cassandra coached him on how to keep his balance, how to move himself forward, make turns and stop. He tried to follow her instructions to the letter, but he was fearful and unsure of himself.

She eventually let go of his hand; immediately his long arms flapped and waved wildly as he tried to keep his balance on the treacherous ice, making him look like a large, ungainly bird trying to take flight. There was a panicked look on his face at first, but soon a smile slowly spread across the old Caretaker's face as his balance steadied and he discovered that he could actually propel himself forward. As he slid slowly along, Cassandra laughed and clapped, cheering him on and shouting encouragement.

The laughter died in her throat and her eyes widened in horror as she caught sight of the rowdy group of teenaged boys recklessly racing each other, speeding heedlessly towards the oblivious Jenkins.

* * *

The back door glowed as it hummed to life, and the doors swung open on silent hinges. Seconds later, Jenkins hobbled slowly and painfully through the doorway, his face dark and threatening, his left eye rapidly swelling and turning a sickening shade of purple-red. Right behind him, Cassandra tripped through the portal and rushed to his side. She tried to slip her arm around him, but he harshly jerked away from her.

"DON'T!" the immortal thundered, not even looking at the worried redhead.

"Jenkins, I'm SO sorry!" Cassandra repeated again, trailing behind the tall immortal as he moved slowly down the corridor to their bedroom.

"It was an accident, sweetheart! Please! Don't be mad at me!" she pleaded, but he refused to answer her or even to look at her. After several more minutes of fruitless pleading and cajoling, the distraught Librarian didn't know what else to do. As soon as they entered their bedroom she flopped down onto the edge of the bed and burst into tears of frustration.

Jenkins stopped cold, her sobs cutting through him like a knife. He took a deep breath, heaved it out again with a loud sigh. He turned and hobbled over to the bed and dropped onto the mattress next her.

"Please, don't cry, Cassandra—I'm sorry," he said remorsefully as he put his arm around her. "I know it was an accident, it's not your fault. I'm sure that multi-body pileup on the ice looked _much_ worse than it was. My injuries are minor, just a black eye and a sprained ankle. I'm not angry with you at all, my dear."

"You sure could've fooled me!" she sniffled. Jenkins sighed again and took her hand in his.

"I know, my dear. I'm behaving childishly." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I'm afraid my pride was injured more than anything else, and I took it out on you. Can you forgive me?"

The Librarian glared at him, but could hold the expression for only a few seconds. His disheveled hair, blackening eye and hangdog look made him look like schoolboy who'd been caught fighting on the playground, and she burst into laughter. She threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug.

"I'll forgive you if you forgive me," she offered.

"Done!" he promptly answered. "Now, if you would be so kind, could you help me by bringing me the bottle of Bathsheba's oil from the Library?"

Cassandra planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then bounced away to bring the oil. While she was gone, the Caretaker undressed painfully and changed into his pajamas. By the time Cassandra came back, his head and ankle were throbbing. She caught him in mid-grimace as she came through the door.

"Oh, poor Jenkins!" she said sympathetically and hurried over to the bed where he was sitting. "Here, let me put the oil on you." He held up his hand to stop her.

"That's not necessary, my dear, I can manage now."

"It's my fault you're in this mess," she reminded him gently. "It's the least I can do to make up for everything."

She poured a small amount of the oil into her hand and began to dab it around his eye. Jenkins flinched at the pain at first, but it soon faded as she carefully rubbed the oil into his skin.

Next she knelt on the floor and gingerly lifted his injured ankle into her lap. She rolled up the leg of his pajamas, then poured some more of the oil into her hand. It was nasty sprain, and even with the regenerative powers of his immortality it would be a painful recovery without the oil. Jenkins watched in silence as the woman gently massaged the oil into his injured limb. The pain immediately dulled. When she was finished, she surprised him by lifting his leg and softly kissing his damaged ankle. She quickly scrambled to sit next to him on the bed, then leaned forward to kiss his black eye.

"Better?" she asked softly. Jenkins was quiet a few seconds before answering her.

"I think I hurt my shoulder when I hit the ice," he murmured, rubbing his left arm absently as he looked into her eyes. Cassandra leaned forward and kissed his shoulder.

He next pointed to his neck, just below his ear. "There's a...crick in my neck, too, right here." She leaned in and leisurely kissed his neck.

He laid a finger on his cheek next. "I think I nicked myself shaving this morning..." Cassandra duly kissed his 'injured' cheek.

Jenkins dropped his eyes shyly, then silently placed a tentative finger to his lips. Smiling, the Librarian leaned forward slowly and delicately kissed his lips.

"All better?" she whispered. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm feeling a lot of little aches and pains all over..." he began softly.

Cassandra knelt on the bed next to him. She grasped the lapels of his pajamas and gently pulled him forward. As she tenderly kissed him, her fingers set to work slowly unfastening his pajama buttons.


	18. Christmas Fluff 9 Buckeyes

Cassandra mixed the peanut butter, sugar, vanilla and butter together until it was smooth and thick. Periodically dusting her hands with powdered sugar to keep the mixture from sticking, she began to roll the mixture into balls, each about the size of a small walnut. On the stove, a saucepan contained pieces of gently melting chocolate. A large tray lined with waxed paper waited patiently on the countertop next to the stove.

As she worked, Cassandra's thoughts went to her Great-Grandmother Bernice. Gramma Bernice was the one who taught her how to make buckeyes, when Cassandra was nine years old. She knew she wasn't very good in the kitchen, but she could make buckeyes perfectly and effortlessly. Maybe that was because Cassandra had such warm memories of Gramma Bernice, and making her great-grandmother's favorite candy recipe every Christmas brought them all back. It was sort of a ritual for Cassandra, a time to remember the one person in her young life who had not treated her like a freak or who defined Cassandra's worth solely in terms of her gift for mathematics. Gramma Bernice had simply loved Cassandra for who she was—her great-granddaughter. Her family.

Gramma Bernice was a tiny, frail woman in her 80's when Cassandra knew her. She always had time to spend with her little redheaded great-granddaughter, especially after school before Cassandra's parents came home from work. She showed Cassandra old photo albums of distant ancestors and told her stories about them; she told Cassandra stories about her own childhood; answered all of Cassandra's curious questions as best she could; comforted her when she was upset from taunts and bullying she'd experienced at school that day; soothed her when she felt she had disappointed her parents and their ridiculously high standards; told the young Cassandra that she could achieve anything she wanted to be.

Some of the fondest memories Cassandra had were of Gramma Bernice reading stories to the little girl. Cassandra's favorites were the fairy tales with magic in them and the legends about handsome knights on white stallions saving princesses from dragons. The Librarian remembered one conversation in particular, when Cassandra had asked if knights were real. Gramma Bernice laughed.

"Of course they are, child!" she had said. "My Elmer—your great-grandfather, rest his soul—was _my_ knight in shining armor. He was on the crotchety side, sometimes, but he had a heart of gold, and he the love of my life. One day, you'll find a handsome knight of your own, Cassandra. Though he won't _literally_ be wearing armor or riding a horse, they don't do that anymore. But he'll still be a knight!"

"But don't knights only fall in love with princesses? Princesses are always pretty and _everybody_ loves them," Cassandra said sadly, hanging her head. "Princesses are never weirdo math freaks, like me." Gramma Bernice put a wizened hand under her chin and lifted her head to face her.

"Now you listen to me, Cassandra Cillian: You are not a 'freak'! And even if you were, it wouldn't matter to a real knight. In his eyes, you _will_ be a princess," she answered firmly, brushing the little girl's cheek with her warm, dry fingers. "In _his_ eyes, you'll be the most beautiful princess he's ever seen, and he'll love you more than anything else in the world, just as you are!"

Cassandra blinked back tears and smiled at the memory as she carefully dipped the balls of peanut butter part-way into the melted chocolate, leaving the tops uncovered so that the resulting candy resembled a buckeye nut. She arranged the finished candies on the tray to cool. Gramma Bernice died in her sleep just a few months later, and Cassandra had been heartbroken.

She gathered up the dirty utensils and took them over to the sink to wash them. While her back was turned to the countertop, the running water and the clattering of the dishes as she washed up covered the sound of Jenkins entering the kitchen in search of a cup of tea. The heavenly scent of peanut butter and chocolate struck him the minute he opened the door. Looking around, he spied the odd-looking treats on the counter.

Checking to make sure Cassandra was distracted, he crept over to the tray. He'd never seen buckeyes before and he was instantly intrigued. After another quick glance at Cassandra, he took one of the sweets and popped it into his mouth. He almost gave himself away with a groan of sheer pleasure at the flavors that exploded in his mouth as he chewed. He snatched another from the tray and quickly stuffed into his mouth. He devoured a third buckeye, at the same time pocketing four more.

Cassandra finished washing the dishes, and as she turned back to the counter, Jenkins quickly swallowed the remains of the buckeye he'd been enjoying and whipped around to face her, his expression aloof and disinterested.

"Oh! Jenkins! I didn't hear you come in!" she said, startled. Jenkins smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"I just came in for a cup of tea, my dear," he answered blandly. He glanced briefly at the tray on the counter. "You look as though you've been busy."

"Just making some little stocking stuffers for everyone for Christmas," she answered. She approached the counter and immediately noticed that several of the buckeyes were missing.

"Jenkins!" she barked. "Did you eat ALL of those?!" The Caretaker drew himself up to his full height, his face full of offended indignation.

"I most certainly did not!" he protested loudly. He assuaged the twinge of guilt he felt by reminding himself that he was, technically, telling the truth; there were still four uneaten buckeyes in his pocket.

Cassandra pursed her lips as she eyed him skeptically. Jenkins raised his right hand and stared with wide-eyed innocence into her eyes.

"I swear!"

The Librarian's face relaxed into a smile and she held her arms open.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. It must've been Ezekiel or Jake. Here, let me give you a kiss to make up!" Smiling now himself, Jenkins stepped into her arms, wrapping his arms around her as he bent to kiss her. Cassandra's small, pink tongue darted into his mouth and slid sensually along his tongue, sending a little thrill throughout his body. He began to deepen the kiss, but Cassandra pushed him roughly away.

"A-HA!" she crowed in triumph. "If you didn't steal any of my buckeyes, then _why_ do you taste like peanut butter and chocolate?!"

The startled man, head slightly cocked in alarm at having been caught in his lie, stared at her, lost for words.

"I...don't...know?" he said slowly. The redhead grabbed a long-handled wooden mixing spoon from a stand of kitchen utensils on the countertop and brandished it at him.

"Scat!" she snapped. Like a deer caught in the headlights, he stood rooted to the floor, blinking in surprise. Cassandra scurried behind the tall immortal, and lightly swatted his backside with the spoon.

"I said SCAT!" she repeated. "Get out of this kitchen right now, you big greedy—" Suddenly she stopped her attack and lowered the spoon, her expression softening. The Caretaker turned to face her, and she looked up into his dark brown eyes.

"Do you think I'm a princess, Jenkins?" she asked quietly. The immortal blinked again, taken aback by the sudden change in topic.

"A princess?" he repeated.

"Yeah, a princess. You know, knights...princesses. Someone once told me that one day I would find my knight in shining armor, and when I did he would think that I was a princess, even though I'm not." He caught a slight note of _something_ in her voice. Sadness? Yearning?

He went to her and took her hands in his, all mischief-making forgotten as looked into her eyes and answered her.

"I don't just _think_ you're a princess, my love; you _are_ a princess. The smartest, bravest, most beautiful princess I've ever known," he rumbled fervently. "And I love you more than anything else in this world!" He was alarmed to see tears well up in her eyes and fall down her cheeks.

"Cassandra, what's wrong? Are you ill?" he asked in bewilderment. The young woman shook her head and smiled.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart," she said. She reached up to cup his face in her hands, standing on her toes to reach him for a kiss, and Jenkins instinctively bent forward to meet her. Their lips met and she kissed him, slowly and softly. As it ended, she lowered herself and looked up at him.

"My crotchety knight in shining armor," she whispered. Jenkins smiled proudly.

"Always, my love."

One hand lingered on his face while Cassandra stretched out the other to pluck a buckeye from the tray and held in front of him.

"Open!" she ordered. Jenkins opened his mouth and she fed the candy to him, then picked up the tray and led him to the kitchen table. "Have a seat, sweetie. You have as many of these as you want, and I'll make us some tea."


	19. Christmas Fluff 10 Christmas Stars

The young Librarian climbed the steep, narrow steps that led to the roof of the Annex. At the top of the staircase she pushed open the heavy metal and emerged into the cold, clean night air. As the door slowly swung shut behind her, she looked around the roof. She spotted the large, dark outline of a figure leaning back against the skylight and headed in that direction.

"Here you are!" she said as she came up beside Jenkins. "What are you doing up here all by yourself?"

"Stargazing," the Caretaker answered dreamily. Cassandra rubbed her arms briskly.

"It's freezing up here!"

Jenkins threw open the heavy wool blanket he had wrapped himself in.

"Come here, my dear; have a seat," he invited, patting his lap and winking impishly. She happily took her seat, and Jenkins wrapped the blanket closely around the both of them. Cassandra slid her arms around the immortal and snuggled against him. When she was finally comfortable, she looked up into the darkness above them, her eyes widening in wonder at the countless stars sparkling like shards of ice against the black velvet sky.

"Oh! It's beautiful!" she breathed. Jenkins nodded silently in agreement.

"Yes, it is."

"There aren't as many stars in the sky as there are sweet nothings I want to whisper into your ear," she said, then flirtatiously pecked his weathered cheek. Jenkins smiled with delight.

"And there aren't nearly as many stars in the sky as there are kisses I want to give to you!" he murmured, kissing her cheek and joining in her little game.

"There aren't as many stars in the sky as there are hugs I want to give you," she sighed, her breath warm in his ear.

"There aren't as many stars in the sky as there are times I want to make love to you," he whispered back, lightly brushing her cold cheek with his lips.

The two cuddled beneath the blanket, keeping each other warm as they continued whispering endearments and promises to each other that only lovers make. Suddenly a large, bright star slashed across the heavens.

"Ah, a falling star!" said Jenkins quietly. "Make a wish, my dear!"

"I don't have to," said Cassandra. "Because the thing I wished for the most has already come true."

"And what was that, my dear?" the immortal asked, curious. Cassandra laid her head on his shoulder and gently kissed his neck.

"I wished for you, silly!" Jenkins only smiled and tightened his arms around the young woman affectionately.

"What did you wish for?" she asked him when he remained silent.

"Now you know that if I tell you that, it won't come true," he chided teasingly. She nuzzled his ear and dotted his neck and cheek with little kisses.

"Please?" she pleaded. He turned his head and gave her lips a light brush with his. He tipped her head towards him so he could whisper into her ear.

"I wished that we could be together forever." He kissed her just in front of her ear.

Cassandra smiled at him, though a lump was threatening to form in her throat when she heard his impossible wish.

"I'll start wishing for that, too, then. Maybe if we both wish for it hard enough, it will come true!"

"Perhaps it will," he said quietly. He turned her head so he could kiss her. They held each other close for several long minutes, saying nothing, only listening to the distant sounds of traffic. Suddenly Jenkins took a deep breath.

"Well, I don't know about you, my dear, but I could use a nice hot cup of tea," he said briskly, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. "Would you care to join me?" Cassandra smiled.

"Make it a big cup of hot chocolate with a marshmallow on top and it's a date!" she said enthusiastically. The Caretaker chuckled warmly.

"As you wish, my love," he agreed.


	20. Christmas Fluff 11 Nice and Naughty

"I _cannot_ believe I let you talk me into this!" grumped Jenkins as Cassandra brushed off his coat and adjusted it on his large frame. She rolled her eyes and sighed for the umpteenth time as she worked.

"Stop worrying, you'll be fine!" she said again. "I remember when I was a kid and stuck in the hospital over the holidays; we kids _always_ looked forward to the Christmas party every year." She stood back and eyed the tall man in front of her. "And the hospital was _thrilled_ when I told them we would volunteer to help out with it this year!"

"Yes, thank you again for volunteering me, by the way," he said petulantly, his brow furrowing unhappily. "Though I'm surprised we both don't have lifetime bans from their property after that little 'unpleasantness' we were involved in at the Halloween party. You know that I'm not really very comfortable being around children." Cassandra only smiled sweetly and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"You'll be fine! And they never found out it was us that was involved with the 'unpleasantness' at Halloween." She adjusted her long red skirt, straightened her glasses and smoothed her hair down carefully.

"You ready?" she asked excitedly, bounding on her toes. Jenkins took a deep breath and shot her a sour look.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he responded, his voice and expression now dripping with false cheerfulness.

Cassandra burst into a wide smile as she stepped into the next room, to the tumultuous cheering of dozens of children spending the Christmas holiday in the children's wing of Portland General Hospital. Jenkins heard her greet the screaming children and the parents and staff who were present.

"I hope you all have your Christmas lists ready!" she sang happily as the kids again cheered and clapped. "Because guess who's here to hear them? SANTA CLAUS!"

As the room burst into a renewed cacophony of excited, happy screaming, the immortal took another deep breath, plastered a big smile on his face, and stepped into the room.

"HO! HO! HO!" he bellowed. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"

"I _cannot_ believe I let you talk me into that!" grumped Jenkins as he and Cassandra emerged from the back door into the Annex. He yanked the Santa hat and long white false beard from his head and tossed them disgustedly onto the long worktable in the middle of the room. Without another word he stalked into corridor that led to their suite of rooms. Cassandra rolled her eyes and followed the unhappy Caretaker.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart—it wasn't _that_ bad!" she said cheerily. "The kids were so excited, they _loved_ you! And I know it meant so much to them—you did a wonderful thing this evening and you should be really proud of yourself!"

"Oh, sure, it was great for _you_ ," he snapped back sarcastically. "YOU were Mrs. Claus—YOU didn't have to have all of those little... _younglings_ crawl onto YOUR lap and physically assault you!"

"No one assaulted you," she said calmly, chiding him. Jenkins whirled around to face her, his eyes wide with incredulity.

"No one assaulted me?!" he shouted. "So you're saying that no one drooled on me, punched me in the face, bit me, kicked me, poked my eye, tried to jam a candy cane into my ear—and MY personal favorite— _projectile vomited_ into my beard!" He stripped off the heavy belt and red Santa coat, leaving them in a heap on the floor. He dropped onto the bed and pulled off the big black boots, throwing them across the room to join the coat and belt. Cassandra came over to sit on the bed next to him. She put her arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"You're not fooling me, you know," she said lightly.

"I'm not _trying_ to fool you," he grumbled. Cassandra laughed.

"Riiiight. You stomp around here snapping and growling like a cranky old grizzly bear, but I saw you this evening," she said, unimpressed. "But really you're just a great big squishy teddy bear! You were so wonderful with those kids, Jenkins. You were sweet and kind and patient with every single one of them, even the projectile vomiter." She sat up and kissed his cheek. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Yes, well," spluttered the Caretaker, somewhat mollified. "I couldn't very well publically yell at sick children, now, could I? And I knew how important it was to you, so I tried my best to keep my temper from getting away from me, that's all." The Librarian ran her hand over his broad chest.

"Why don't you just admit, Jenkins—you're a softie!" she teased. Jenkins looked offended.

"I am not!" he retorted with a snort.

"You're a nice guy!" she continued, her voice suddenly becoming low and husky. "And I think that since you were so nice to those kids tonight, you deserve a little extra something in your stocking this Christmas." Jenkins sat up straight.

"Indeed?" he said, trying to sound disinterested, and failing. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"How about something a little bit naughty?" she said, reaching down to slowly unfasten his pants.

The grin that slowly slid across Jenkins's face was all she needed to see. Cassandra stood up and quickly tugged the heavy red pants off of him. She quickly shed her own Mrs. Claus costume, Jenkins's dark eyes glowing in anticipation. He pulled her forward to nuzzle her bare breasts, giving each a loving kiss. Cassandra, laughing, raised her hands to remove the white wig and glasses, but Jenkins seized her hands, stopping her.

"No," he said hoarsely, waggling his eyebrows. "Leave them on." Cassandra looked askance at him.

"Omigod!" she squeaked suddenly, slapping his hands away. "You're not gonna fantasize about the REAL Mrs. Claus, are you?! Not while we're...!" The Librarian backed away from him and snatched her clothes from the floor, covering herself with them as she made a face of disgust.

"No, Cassandra!" he began to protest, scrambling to his feet and stepping towards the repulsed woman. "That's not what I—!"

"Oh, Jenkins, how could you?! She's a sweet little old lady!"

"Cassandra, I swear, I've never, EVER, so much as laid a finger on Gretchen—!"

"OMIGOD, you said her name! Don't you dare touch me!" she yelped, dancing away from him. "Mrs. Claus! MRS. SANTA CLAUS! EWWWW! Ick! Ick! ICK!" She shot past the immortal and darted into her sitting room, slamming the door behind her. Jenkins heard the key turn in the lock.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, he dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed, his head falling back, eyes tightly shut in agony as he thought of the carnal delights that had just slipped through his fingers.

Heaving a deep, ragged sigh, the Caretaker rubbed his tired face with both hands. He stood up and pulled the red pants back on, then slipped into a dressing gown and slippers before heading back to the Annex workroom.

He might as well go and clean the vomit out of the false Santa beard before it left a stain...


	21. Christmas Fluff 12 Ugly Sweater

**Because Nature abhors a vacuum-Here's my vision of what Cassandra's sweater for Jenkins was like. Takes place at the tail end of "The Christmas Thief"**

"Jenkins! Here you are!" chirped Cassandra Cillian brightly as she bounced into the Caretaker's sitting room. The tall man briefly closed his eyes and threw a quick prayer into the void of Heaven before turning around, a pleasant smile of greeting pasted to his face.

"Yes, my dear, here I am," he answered, adjusting the sleeves of his black virgin wool coat. "I just wanted to change out of my vacation togs and into a proper suit before I joined you and the others in the festivities."

"That's okay," she said happily. "But you missed Flynn and Eve opening and trying on the sweaters I made for them!"

"Yes, well, I AM sorry I missed that," Jenkins rumbled amiably. "I'm sure that was quite a sight!"

The redheaded Librarian stepped up to him and slipped her arms around his waist. "I _know_ why you're hiding out in here, you know," she said, looking up steadily into his startled brown eyes.

"You do?" he said, a cold lump of dread beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. A smile spread across her face.

"You _know_ I have a sweater for you, too," she said, her blues eyes sparkling. "And you're just too shy to open it front of everyone else!"

The lump melted away as he exhaled in relief. "Yes—shy! I do dislike being the center of attention! You know me so well, my dear!" he said with forced cheerfulness. Cassandra went up onto her toes and gave his lips a quick kiss.

"Wait here, I'll go get it for you!" She turned and disappeared through the door. She returned in a few seconds, carrying a large, gaily-wrapped Christmas gift.

"Here you go, sweetie!" she squealed, her excitement building by the second. "I just KNOW you're going to love it!" She held out the box to him.

The broad, false smile still plastered on his face, Jenkins took the gift and slowly sat down in an armchair. He put the box in his lap and opened it, pulling away the tissue paper. The immortal's eyes bugged out and his hand flew to cover his mouth as he gasped, staring in astonishment at the most garishly-decorated sweater his ancient eyes had ever had the misfortune to behold.

It was a heavy, white, Irish-style fisherman's sweater. Emblazoned on the entire chest area was the red and white coat of arms of Sir Galahad on a shield, with two large, silver swords crossed behind it. Flanking the shield was a pair of fierce-looking dragons done in various shades of green, lurid red tongues hanging from their mouths; they had tiny LED lights for eyes that lit up and flashed red. Floating above the shield was a huge, brilliant gold, jeweled Grail in a flashing yellow LED-light sunburst. A scroll beneath the shield bore the words " _Beati Mundo Corde_ ". The entire design had been wrought in brilliant sequins and rhinestones.

The young woman shrieked like a tea kettle as she clapped her hands in glee and waited expectantly for his reaction, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Jenkins looked up from the box, his face ashen, his hand still covering his mouth in shock.

"Well?!" the ecstatic Librarian yelled. "What do you think?!"

The horrified Caretaker looked back down into the box on his lap. Taking a deep breath to steady himself and clear his mind, he could now see that Cassandra had put a _great_ deal of thought and work into the frightening garment. He could see now that every single sequin and rhinestone had been painstakingly sewn on by hand. The whole project must have taken her months to complete. All this effort—just for him.

Jenkins lowered his hand as he looked up again at Cassandra and into her shining, clear blue eyes.

"It's the most beautiful sweater I've ever seen, my love!" he enthused, flashing her his brightest smile, genuine this time. Cassandra nearly exploded with joy at his words.

"OMIGOD! I KNEW you'd love it!" she screamed and snatched the sweater from his hands. "Stand up! You have to try it on now!"

The gallant knight obediently stood and silently removed his coat. He slipped the gaudy thing over his head and pulled it on. He noted that, with all the beadwork, it weighed nearly as much as a shirt of chainmail armor. The young woman jumped up and down, absolutely delirious with happiness at the sight.

"OH, JENKINS! It looks FANTASTIC! Oh my GOD! It looks even _better_ on you than I pictured it while I was making it!" She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the door. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go show the others!"

Jenkins put a defiant smile onto his face, like an ill-fated hero going bravely to his own execution, and submissively followed his beloved Librarian out the door.


	22. The Safe Side

"No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" Jenkins snapped harshly. "Never, EVER lower your weapon until your attacker has been completely incapacitated!" He dropped his wooden practice sword to his side with an exasperated sigh as he regarded his cowering wife. "And never, EVER take your eyes off of your attacker!" Cassandra raised her head and glared back at him, wide blue eyes glistening with welling tears.

"That's IT, I'm DONE!" she yelled at the glowering knight. "I'm sorry, Jenkins, but I just _can't_ do this! I can't fight or kill anyone with a sword! It's just not in me to do that!"

"What about Katie Bender?" he countered sharply. "From what you described to me after you returned from Slovakia, you had _no_ qualms about defending yourself against her with a butcher knife or a crate hammer!" Cassandra threw her wooden sword across the gym.

"Katie was a _ghost_!" she shouted angrily. "It wasn't the same thing as stabbing or slashing or killing a real person!" A look of disgust marred her features and she shuddered. "What kind of soulless monster would you have to be to be able to _kill_ someone, anyway? Just... _take the life_ of another human being like that?"

"I daresay that if _you_ were ever faced with a choice between either 'soullessly' taking the life of an axe-wielding Visigoth or having him split your skull in half, you wouldn't ask such a ridiculous question," he said coldly, her words stinging him deeply. The Librarian's eyes flew open and she covered her mouth with both of her hands in horror as she realized what she had just said.

"Oh! Jenkins! Omigod, I'm so sorry!" she gasped. She waved her arms frantically as she tried to explain herself, the words tumbling out of her.

"I didn't mean _you_! I mean, I know _you're_ not a monster! It's just that…I'm so frustrated and tired right now and…you've been yelling at me and picking at me and pushing me all afternoon even though I keep telling you that I don't _want_ to do this and… _I'm just so sorry_!" Her voice cracked as she turned away from him, struggling not to cry.

The immortal's broad shoulders dropped slightly and his stern expression softened into one of remorse. He took a deep breath and sighed as he dropped his own practice sword and went to his wife, wrapping his long arms around her as he tried to comfort her.

"No, Cassandra, I'M the one who should be sorry," he said quietly, kissing her head. "I didn't mean to be so harsh or to push you so hard. I apologize." He released her and turned her to face him again, tipping her face up with a finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Forgive me?"

The young Librarian smiled weakly and nodded her head, then leaned against his chest and held him tightly, relieved that they weren't bickering anymore. "Of course I forgive you, sweetheart," she said, and for a moment she simply enjoyed the warmth and strength of his body, the steady beat of his heart. Eventually she pulled away and looked up at him.

"But _why_ are you making me learn how to swordfight? We have Eve to do the fighting and protect us, and if she can't do that then I'd much rather try to outsmart an enemy than try to kill them!" She peered closely into his troubled eyes and laid a hand on his cheek. "What's going on, sweetheart? Really?"

"I'm doing it because I love you!" he blurted. Cassandra snorted.

"You have a strange way of showing it!" she retorted. Jenkins looked uncomfortably down into her sky-colored eyes and took her hands in his.

"Cassandra, I _know_ how dangerous it is to be a Librarian," he began hesitantly. "I cannot tell you how many times I've watched a Librarian leave the Library, and _never_ come back. Or, worse, they come back, but they're literally in pieces. Or burnt to a crisp. Or so horribly cursed that they _long_ for death. Or in some other gruesome condition." He dropped his gaze and tried to swallow down the lump beginning to form in his throat.

"Ever since we became a couple, every time you go through that door on a mission, my stomach ties itself into a huge knot, and it _stays_ that way until I see you come back safely through the door again," he confessed.

"It tortures me when I have to stay behind! And when I know that you're going on a particularly dangerous mission, it's all I can do to keep myself from following after you, to protect you, keep you safe, to be your Guardian." He paused and released her hands, gently placing his on either side of his wife's face.

"Because if anything ever happened to you, Cassandra, if I ever lost you—it would destroy me, especially if I knew that there was something _I_ could've done to prevent it." His dark brown eyes filled with sadness.

"If I ever lost you, I believe that I would actually die of a broken heart," he whispered. He bent his white head down and softly kissed her forehead, then her lips. He sighed as he stood straight again.

"I love you so much, Cassandra, _so very_ much! I don't think I would even _want_ to live without you, to tell the truth." The Librarian's eyes filled with tears as she looked up into her husband's pale, somber face. She blinked against them and slowly slipped her arms around his waist.

"Jenkins…" she said in a small voice, pressing her face into his broad chest. She rested there for a few moments, allowing his words and the emotion behind them to sink in, while he put his arms tightly around her thin shoulders.

When she could speak again she gently extricated herself from his arms and walked slowly over to her wooden sword. She stooped to pick it up, then turned to face the tall man who loved her so much, the man she loved so much in return.

"Well!" she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to learn a _few_ moves, just to be on the safe side…"


	23. The Love Nest

The Librarian slipped off of her stool and put her hands in the small of her back, bending backwards as far as she could to relieve her stiff muscles, groaning slightly in the process. They'd been working all morning on cataloging a huge box of miscellaneous scrolls that she had found in the back of a storage closet for so long that not even Jenkins remembered it, and her head was beginning to ache from the hours of concentration. She walked around the long table to stand next to her husband and draped her arm around his middle, then stretched up to give his soft cheek an affectionate peck.

"I need a break from all of this for a few minutes; want some tea?" she asked. Jenkins removed his horn-rimmed glasses and laid them carefully aside.

"Tea sounds absolutely wonderful, my dear. Shall I give you a hand in the kitchen?" She gave his cheek another peck.

"It's a date!" she answered, spinning on the balls of her feet to head toward to kitchen. Before she could leave the workroom, however, a low, loud, rumbling growl suddenly sounded above the pair. They both looked toward the ceiling at the same time, Cassandra's face with a look of curiosity, a look of concern on Jenkins's. The sound came again, slightly louder this time, and lightly rattled the panes of glass in the Annex windows. The Caretaker's expression relaxed as he identified the source of the sound, while Cassandra's eyes widened with full-blown excitement. She ran to the nearest window and peered outside, then, clapping her hands, she skipped back to the table and grabbed her husband's arm.

"It's a thunderstorm, Jenkins!" she squealed happily and began to tug on his sleeve. "And it looks like good one, too! Come on, let's go play our game!" A smile lit up the Caretaker's face at her suggestion. He quickly replaced the quill pen he'd been writing with back into its holder and stood up.

"Let's!" he rumbled, and Cassandra nearly squeaked with delight as she put her hand into his and they hurried to the elevator.

They rode the car to one of the upper attic floors and got off, then quickly threaded their way through the maze of forgotten dusty and cobweb-covered boxes, trunks, suitcases, cabinets, and various other odds and ends that had accumulated over the millennia. They were crammed into every available space, all of it the personal property of former Librarians and Guardians. Eventually the couple emerged from the miasma of cast-off memories, and found themselves standing before a large Tang Dynasty screen that exquisitely depicted dragons and phoenixes cavorting amidst golden clouds.

They skirted the screen and entered a small, cozy space in front of a large multi-paned window with a breathtaking view of the Portland skyline. The space wasn't large, but there was room for a large, overstuffed Edwardian-era sofa, decorated with silken pillows and a couple of heavy brocade blankets. Next to the sofa was a small, ivory-inlaid sandalwood table that had once belonged to a Babylonian king, its scent still strong, thanks to a preservation spell, and delicately perfuming the air. On it sat a fat, red candle in a finely-wrought bronze holder fashioned to look like a wreath of lotuses. A cabinet nearby contained everything needed to make tea, plus a few tins of treats for nibbling. An antique Turkish rug covered the rough wooden flooring.

This was their secret 'love nest', as Cassandra insisted on calling it, a tiny niche carefully carved out of the Library's vastness that only they two knew about. Jenkins was the only one left who even knew about these levels of the Library, though he was surprised that Mr. Carsen hadn't found them by now. Regardless, he'd brought Cassandra up here with him one day to look for something that he thought he could use in one of his experiments, and that's when the Librarian had the idea of creating a little retreat for themselves, someplace that the two of them could go when they needed to get away from the Library, away from the others, and not have to worry about anyone tracking them down and banging on the door, as sometimes happened now with their private suite of rooms downstairs. Here they could be completely undisturbed.

Cassandra lit the candle as bolts of lightning vined through the rapidly darkening skies outside. Jenkins took his seat on the sofa, and as the candle glowed brightly, Cassandra joined him, opting this evening to sit on his lap. He was secretly pleased by that; there was something curiously masculine and very satisfying in having one's pretty young wife perched on one's lap, her arms affectionately wound around one's neck and gazing adoringly into one's eyes.

"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked when he thought she was settled. Cassandra nodded her head happily.

"Very well, on the next peal then..." he began, and was interrupted by a loud groan of thunder from the looming clouds overhead. With a soft smile of anticipation, Jenkins lowered his head and kissed Cassandra, matching the length and intensity of his kiss to the length and intensity of the thunder they had just heard as best he could, and she did the same to him. No sooner was that kiss finished than another rumble of thunder—this one louder than the last—rolled leisurely through the charcoal sky. The pair immediately kissed each other again, a little longer and deeper this time.

This was their game, known only to them, and they jealously guarded it lest it lose any of its special magic for them. As they waited for the next roll of thunder, Jenkins ran a hand into Cassandra's long, coppery hair and nuzzled her cheek, her ear, her neck, her shoulders, lightly biting or licking wherever he could reach. They couldn't kiss until it thundered—that was the only rule of the game.

So as they waited, each made do with touching, squeezing, stroking, nibbling. Perhaps a few buttons would find themselves undone in the process, or a zipper somehow make its way down the length of a skirt. Perhaps a tie would suddenly, mysteriously find itself unknotted or suspenders pushed down. Perhaps shirttails would become untucked, undergarments removed as hands wandered over soft, pale flesh in the dim light of the glowing red candle. With each new rumble of thunder, a new kiss would be exchanged—soft, tender, occasionally with a spark of playfulness, each coaxing quiet giggles or low chuckles from the other. Endearments would be exchanged, professions of undying love repeated, promises of unwavering faithfulness renewed.

Perhaps the game would end in lovemaking; perhaps not. Sex wasn't really the goal of the game. Intimacy was the goal. Each just being with the other. The physical contact, the nearness of one to the other, the comfort and reassurance it brought, the bonding. The feel of the warm skin of one against the other. Each trying to outdo the other in florid pronouncements of their love for the other. The giddy thrill each felt inside at the other's touch, still as exciting for them as the very first time they touched each other. The soft, hesitant little kisses that melted almost instantly into deep, passionate ones. The knowledge for them both—especially for the immortal—that _finally_ , after so many empty, lonely years, here was someone who loved and accepted and cherished them as they were. Those things were what really mattered.

On the face of it, it was a silly game, one that only lovers could possibly devise. If anyone had told Jenkins five years ago that one day soon he would find himself on a sofa playing foolish kissing games like a lovesick adolescent with a Librarian _centuries_ younger than himself, he would've thought that person completely insane. But now, he couldn't imagine wanting to do anything else more fervently.


	24. Research

Jenkins was always delighted to help Cassandra do research for her various projects. It meant that they got to spend a large amount of time together alone as they searched through the various collections of manuscripts, books and artifacts, and that meant a lot of time for conversation, flirting, and the occasional stolen kiss or two. It also meant that Jenkins got to peek up his pretty wife's trademark miniskirts whenever she went up a ladder in search of a particular book, though he was always very careful to never let her catch him doing so. That would've been ungentlemanly, after all.

This afternoon they were researching the lives and methods of various necromancers. Cassandra was especially eager to read about Circe, so now they were in the Greek Section of the Library's Antiquities Wing. Cassandra had a notebook full of call numbers out, checking each of the range numbers as they slowly walked along the main aisle of the stacks. Jenkins followed her, pushing the book cart that was half-full of her selections. She suddenly stopped and double-checked the range number against what was written in the notebook in her hand.

"This is it!" she chirped and disappeared into the space between two towering ranges of shelving, each packed full of books and scrolls. The air was perfumed with the smell of dry, aging leather, vellum and papyrus, a scent that Jenkins never failed to find comforting. He parked the book cart at the end of the range and followed Cassandra into the stacks. The Librarian had already found the section she needed and dragged the ladder along the range, and was now placing it into position.

"The call number I'm looking for is pretty high up, almost at the very top of the range," she said. Jenkins didn't like the sound of that; the top of the range was almost thirty feet off the floor.

"Perhaps I should go up," he offered anxiously. "It would be a nasty tumble if you should fall." She turned and smiled at her overprotective husband.

"Thanks, but I think I can manage it," she replied airily. "Okay, here I go; spot me!" She grabbed the rungs and started to climb. Jenkins watched her carefully, ready to go into action if needed. She eventually stopped about twenty-five feet up and pulled a book off of the shelf. She opened it and began to peruse its contents.

Relaxing a bit now that she was stationary, Jenkins looked down for a moment and began rubbing his neck. He'd been so tensely focused on watching Cassandra climb that his muscles had started aching.

Suddenly, a large book whizzed past his head and slammed onto the floor, startling him.

" _Jenkins!_ " Cassandra's panicked shriek evaporated everything from the Caretaker's mind except her. He looked up again, and this time his heart nearly stopped at the sight of Cassandra dangling over the side of the ladder, her feet wildly kicking as she tried to find the rungs again. He watched in horror as, within seconds, her fingers slipped free of the rung she was grasping. Automatically Jenkins positioned himself beneath her and held his arms out, just in time to catch her with a loud grunt as the screaming woman landed in them. He staggered backward and landed hard against the neighboring range of books, dislodging several volumes. He quickly regained his balance and stood upright, holding the Librarian in his arms bridal style, her thin arms now locked tightly around his neck and her eyes squeezed shut.

"Cassandra! Are you all right?" he asked her immediately. "Did you hit your head on anything on the way down?" The young woman slowly opened her eyes and looked fearfully up at him

"No, I'm okay; I...I just lost my footing," she said weakly. She glanced up at where she had been on the ladder; when she saw how far she had fallen, she turned and buried her face against the immortal's chest, tightening her arms even more. "Oh, Jenkins, I'm so glad you were here to catch me!"

"As am I, my dear," he rumbled back to her in response, his pounding heart beginning to slow down. He could feel her petite body begin to tremble against him.

"I could've been killed!" she said, trembling even more. Jenkins tried to soothe her.

"Shhhh, my love; don't think about that!" he murmured, kissing her head. _He_ didn't want to think about that possibility, either. "You're safe and sound, now, no harm done!" Cassandra suddenly raised her head and slid her hands to either side of his head.

"My hero," she tried to joke, but her voice was shaking. She suddenly pulled his face down to hers and pressed her lips to his, her small tongue slipping quickly between his lips as she sought entrance. Jenkins readily granted it, returning her kiss with equal passion. Cassandra smiled softly at the comforting taste of tea and strawberry jam she found on his tongue.

As he lifted his head from the kiss, the Librarian slipped one hand to the back of his neck while the other slid inside his dark brown wool coat to run slowly over his muscular chest. Her clear blue eyes burned into his. As he looked into them, Cassandra dropped her gaze bashfully and bit her full lower lip, something she knew Jenkins found irresistibly attractive. She felt him draw a deep breath before he carefully set her feet back onto the floor.

As soon as she was upright again, Cassandra stood close and began running both of her hands over his chest and stomach, periodically glancing up into her husband's dark eyes. Jenkins lowered his head and kissed her again, slowly running his tongue over her bottom lip and then biting it, while his hands moved over her arms and shoulders. He kissed a trail down the side of her neck and onto her shoulder just inside the collar of her thin, flower-print blouse.

Suddenly he felt her hand on his crotch, rubbing and squeezing him hard, slowly and provocatively. He grunted softly at the delicious sensation, and soon his manhood was pressing uncomfortably against his trousers. Cassandra felt his hardness, and only increased the exquisite pressure on him, drawing low groans and gasps from deep in the Caretaker's throat.

Jenkins backed the Librarian against the shelving. He quickly unbuttoned her cardigan and blouse, then roughly pushed her bra up to expose her breasts. He lightly ran the backs of his fingers against a nipple, teasing it erect before he bent and took it into his mouth, sucking on it greedily, dragging his tongue over the hard, pink bud. Cassandra moaned softly and continued to squeeze him with one hand while her other hand found and gripped the back of his neck. Jenkins moved to her other breast and sucked on it, his hand on the other breast and squeezing it hard, causing the young woman to cry out softly at the pain. The sound brought Jenkin's lust to a full, searing blaze, like gasoline thrown onto a fire.

He pushed her again, this time to the wall between the ranges, and impatiently yanked up her short skirt, his eyes burning like coals. He pushed her panties down and spread her legs apart with his knee while he kissed her hard, his tongue forcing itself into her sweet-tasting mouth, his hand snaking into her long, red hair. The long fingers of his other hand mimicked the movements of his tongue, slipping into her very wet sex and teasing her from within while his thumb teased her clit from without.

"Oh, _God_ , Jenkins!" she cried out, her head falling back limply against the wooden paneling. "Oh, _God_ , Jenkins, that feels so good!" He half-laughed, half- gasped into her ear.

"You enjoy this, do you, my love?" he ground out hoarsely, continuing to work her. Cassandra moaned loudly in response, her hands tightly gripping fistfuls of his coat.

"Would you like something more?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes!" she gasped loudly.

"Do you want to feel me inside of you?"

"YES!" He turned his head so that his lips were right next to her ear.

"Do you want to feel me moving in and out of you?" He could tell from the way she felt against his fingers and from the sounds she made that she was already close to orgasm. He kissed her ear softly.

"Do you want to feel my hard cock sliding in and out of you?" he breathed to her, barely audible. She laughed, surprised at his use of the word 'cock'. He usually refused to engage in 'dirty talk' with her; hearing those words now in that low, silky baritone of his made Cassandra literally quiver inside with desire for him.

"Such language!" she rasped, turning her head to lightly bite his earlobe. She could feel his almost feral growl rumbling deep in his chest.

"It's the company I keep now— _such_ a bad influence!"

Jenkins released her and stood back. He quickly undid his belt and trousers, shoving them down along with his boxers and stepped out of them. His long, stiff member seemed to strain eagerly to reach her.

He stepped back to her and picked her up, smoothly placing himself between her straddling legs. Bracing her for a moment against the wall, he quickly positioned himself at her entrance and then plunged into her, groaning loudly as he immediately began to thrust hard. Cassandra grasped his hair in her fists, whining his name as she pulled on it, relishing the feel of her husband's long, stiff shaft dragging back and forth tortuously over her swollen clit. With each stroke she made small, bird-like cries, her long, slim legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She was already so close to the edge that it was only a couple of minutes before she was overpowered by her climax, crying out wordlessly while pulling his hair painfully hard.

Between the pain, her cries, and the feel of his manhood rubbing against Cassandra's slick flesh, Jenkins soon reached his own orgasm with shout like a war-cry. As his sex throbbed hard within her, he gasped a string of unfamiliar words ending with what she recognized as her name, but pronounced oddly, and she realized that he was saying something to her in his native language.

He ground to a halt and, shuddering, leaned weakly against Cassandra, his weight pinning her to the wall for a few minutes as he recovered from his climax. He continued whispering hoarsely into her ear in his native tongue—beautiful, lilting words that she assumed were endearments. She loosened her grip on his hair and began to run her fingers through it and over his scalp.

"Those better be _nice_ things you're muttering so passionately into my ear!" she purred silkily as she brushed his hair against the grain, causing Jenkins to shiver with pleasure against her.

"Merely telling you how much I love you and your...um...'lady bits'," he murmured, nuzzling her neck. "You have the most _wonderful_ lady bits, you know." Cassandra laughed and hugged him tightly.

"I hate to ask this, sweetheart, but could you put me down now, please? My legs are beginning to hurt." Jenkins whined petulantly, but after a quick peck on her lips he withdrew from his wife and set her gently onto the floor.

"One moment, my dear!" he said, and swept his trousers up from the floor. He dug into one of the pockets and produced his handkerchief.

"My lady?" he said as he offered it to her with a flourish. Cassandra looked at him for a moment, confused as to why he was giving her a handkerchief until he looked pointedly at her glistening 'lady bits'.

"How gallant!" she giggled as she took the cloth from him. Jenkins merely smiled and gave her his courtliest bow. The sight of her husband performing such a dignified gesture with no trousers on made Cassandra burst into laughter.

Jenkins turned away to give her some privacy while he put his trousers back on and straightened his suit and tie. By the time he had his finished Cassandra had slipped back into her panties and put her own clothes to rights again. His handkerchief was neatly folded and laying on the floor. Jenkins picked it up and slipped it into his coat pocket to drop into the laundry hamper later. The Immortal picked up the book that fallen to the floor while she was on the ladder and handed it to her.

"If only _all_ research was as enjoyable as this," he said, giving her a roguish wink. He wrapped his arms around her and cuddled her small body against his.

"No argument here!" she said, hugging him back and snuggling into his chest, breathing in his musk.

"Next time, though, could we please skip the part where you fall off of the ladder and scare centuries off of my life?" he asked before bending to kiss her slowly just one more time.


	25. The Safe Side, Redux

Jenkins stood at his full height and peered somewhat imperiously down his nose at the petite redhead in front of him, distractedly tapping the wooden blade of his practice sword against his leg.

"Well, I must say, my dear, that your attitude toward sword practice has taken a rather dramatic turn," he said mildly. Cassandra bounced a couple of times on her toes and smiled up at him sweetly.

"I took what you said earlier to heart, that's all," she said. "You want me to be able to defend myself, so I've been practicing on my own. Well, _mostly_ on my own, but Jake's been helping me, too." The tall man raised his chin and his eyebrows.

"Indeed? And you believe that you are now capable of defending yourself against an armed attacker, especially one who is larger and stronger than yourself?" Doubt filled the man's voice.

"Yep!" she chirped in response, rapidly making complex calculations in her head as her blue eyes swept her husband's large frame.

The Caretaker's soldier instincts were sending up red flags; after all the fuss she made at their last practice, she was suddenly very amenable. Cassandra was up to something, his instinct told him, and he unconsciously adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"Very well, then, my dear. Shall we begin?"

"Hit me with your best shot, Big Daddy!" the Librarian challenged as she whipped her sword up in front of her. Jenkins slowly raised his own weapon in salute, regarding her suspiciously through narrowed eyes. She was entirely too eager for this match, especially considering she was nowhere close to being able to defeat him in single combat after only a couple of lessons. What was she up to?

When he was ready, he lunged toward her, his movements surprisingly quick and graceful for someone so large. Without warning, Cassandra dropped her sword and with a running start threw herself onto the gym floor, sliding on her stomach beneath the outstretched sword and right between his long legs, rolling onto her back the second she was behind him. Before he could react the Librarian kicked him in the backs of his knees, and with a yelp of surprise Jenkins crashed to the floor.

Quick as a cat, Cassandra was on her feet and behind him. She slung her left arm around his neck and pulled him back against her body. At the same time she clustered the fingers of her right hand the way Jake had showed her, then sharply struck the nerve cluster located in the front of his right shoulder, with _just_ enough force to temporarily paralyze his entire arm.

With a cry Jenkins dropped the sword and his arm fell limply to his side. He tried to get to his feet, reaching behind him to grab his attacker with his left hand, but Cassandra seized his index finger and bent it back painfully. The Librarian forced the howling man forward until he was face down on the floor, then climbed onto his back and sat there, straddling him. Still gripping his finger tightly.

"I win!" she crowed as she happily bounced on him.

"Cassandra! Let me up!" demanded the surprised and irritated immortal. "I demand that you get off of me this instant!" The victor merely laughed with glee.

"Not until you say 'uncle'!" she said decisively. Jenkins snorted in contempt.

"I will _not_!" he shot back defiantly. "Clearly all you've learned from Mr. Stone is how to cheat!" Cassandra applied just a smidgeon of additional pressure to his finger, causing Jenkins to yowl in pain and frustration as he kicked the floor impotently.

"Very well!" he finally yelled, defeated. "You win!" Cassandra leaned forward close to his ear.

"You didn't say the magic word!" she sang, giving his finger a quick tweak.

" _Uncle_!" Jenkins bellowed. The small woman immediately released his finger and scrambled to her feet. The fallen knight climbed unsteadily to his own feet, rubbing his right arm as it began to painfully regain feeling. He felt slightly dizzy as he regarded the happy redhead in front of him.

"How did you do that?" he demanded harshly. How had this slip of a Librarian managed to disarm and overcome him so quickly and effortlessly? Had she used magic of some sort?

"Oh, nothing much, just a little something involving pressure points," she responded breezily, enjoying herself immensely. "I remembered doing something similar to Lamia by using force ratios when I was under the influence of the Apple of Discord, and I thought, why not try it here? Except I didn't want to use force ratios on _you_ ; I didn't want to actually _hurt_ you. So Jake helped me with pressure points and helped me a little with my technique. Pretty effective, huh?" Her enthusiasm was dampened a bit when she saw the glowering look on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, perplexed. "You were worried about me being able to defend myself on missions; I've just proved to you that I can do that, but you're still upset…?" Jenkins began to slowly flex his right arm as movement returned. He dropped his eyes to the floor, the expression on his face softening after a deep breath.

"I apologize," he said simply. "I _shouldn't_ be so cross with you—you did exactly as you've said. You've proven that you can take care of yourself against a larger, stronger, well-armed opponent. You took me completely by surprise. Well done, Cassandra." He bent over carefully and picked up his practice sword, then began to walk toward the weapons rack. Cassandra hurried after, then past him, and placed herself in front of him, forcing the Caretaker to halt.

"Jenkins, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked. "Did I hurt you? I thought I had the correct pressure I needed to use calculated…"

"No, I'm fine," he interrupted brusquely, moving to go around her. An idea suddenly came to her. She ran to place herself in front of Jenkins again.

"It's your pride, isn't it?" she asked, looking him steadily in the eyes. "I've hurt your 'manly pride', haven't I?" She reached out took hold of his sleeve.

"You're upset because I don't need you anymore now, you don't have a helpless female to protect anymore—that's it, isn't it?" Her blue eyes flashed with anger.

"Shame on you, Jenkins! How can you be so...so... _chauvinistic_! In this day and age!" She waved her arms to take in the training room. "This was all _your_ idea, remember? You wanted me to be able to protect myself. Why did you insist on it if you didn't really want me to learn how to defend myself?"

"Because, to be on the safe side, you _do_ need to be able to defend yourself," he said. "I understand perfectly well the necessity and prudence of you being able to defend and protect yourself in the field. You _shouldn't_ have to rely on me or anyone else for protection. But at the same time part of me feels like I'm shirking my responsibility, part of me still wants to be the one who protects and defends you." Her nose crinkled in distaste.

"Why? Because you're supposed to be the big, strong man and I'm supposed to be the small, weak woman who depends on her man for everything, right?" she asked acidly.

The immortal's features softened and became sad as he looked down at her, and he sighed quietly.

"It's true, Cassandra," he conceded. "The knight in me wants to protect you as a lady; the husband in me wants to protect you as my wife; the Caretaker in me wants to protect you as a Librarian. It _is_ old-fashioned thinking, but I've never meant to be a chauvinist, and I apologize for offending you with it." He paused for a moment, dropping his eyes to floor between them as he considered his words.

"But it's not my pride that's injured. It's my sense of _devotion_ that hurts right now. I'm afraid that I will _always_ feel protective of you, and I can't apologize for that. I love you and I treasure you, Cassandra, and I'm terrified of any harm coming to you, of…losing you," he said quietly. "I would _gladly_ give up my life to protect yours, Cassandra; I would lay it down without a second thought, not because I think you're weak or to feed my ego, but simply out of my love for you."

He raised his eyes again to look into hers. "You could be the equivalent of a _hundred_ Eve Bairds in a fight, but I will _still_ feel like I have failed you as a husband, as a caretaker and as a knight if any harm comes to you because I wasn't there to keep you safe." He fell silent and, with a slight bow, went to the rack to return his practice sword.

Cassandra stood rooted to the floor, swallowing against a small lump in her throat and suddenly feeling foolish for her outburst. Why was the first conclusion she jumped to always the _wrong_ one? She took a breath and hurried over to the weapons rack, grabbed Jenkins's sleeve as he turned to leave the practice room. The tall man turned to look down at her, his face blank.

"Jenkins?" she said. "I'm sorry; I…I…" She stared up at him helplessly, with no idea what else to say in the wake of his confession. "I'm sorry," she repeated, looking away as she took his large hand in both of hers. A tiny smile crept onto the immortal's face and into his eyes, and he laid his free hand on her face, gently stroking the apple of her smooth cheek with his thumb.

"It's all right, my dear; no harm done," he said gently. "You're perfectly within your rights to set boundaries, even with me, and I must learn to respect them. I do beg your patience with me, though, my dear. Old dogs and new tricks, you understand…"

Cassandra looked up again and smiled, then eased into his arms, hugging him fiercely. He retuned her embrace, planting an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. They leaned against each other like that for a few minutes, merely enjoying the feel of each other's bodies alongside one another.

"To tell the truth, Jenkins, I _will_ always need your protection against _some_ things," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

"What things, my love?" he rumbled softly. Cassandra smiled into his chest.

"Spiders!" she spat loudly, pulling away to look up at him. "And centipedes! And…and _cockroaches_!" Cassandra continued, a look of sheer disgust twisting her face as she shuddered.

" _Omigod_ , how I hate cockroaches! They're just so… _EWW_ …!" Jenkins burst into laughter and laid her hand on his arm.

"Why don't you tell me all about it over a 'cuppa', then…?" he said, leading her to the kitchen.


	26. Dragon's Blood and Cranberry Juice

**Elaya: "And what kind of Casskins smut fic can possibly be inspired by cranberry juice?"**

 **Jenksel: "Hold my beer..."**

"Oh... _fiddle-faddle_!" Cassandra snapped sharply. Jenkins was sitting with his back to his wife in their lab, perched on a chair and peering into an antique microscope when he heard the outburst of 'profanity'. He sat upright and turned around to face her. His eyes flew open wide at the sight of a bright red stain spreading over her entire chest.

"Dear God, Cassandra!" he gasped in fright as he jumped up and rushed across the room to her. "What's happened? How did...?" When he was close enough to her, he realized that the substance all over the front of her wasn't blood after all. It was only some kind of fruit juice that Cassandra had accidentally spilled onto herself.

"Oh! Thank God!" he breathed in relief. Cassandra, however, only glared at him in irritation.

"Oh, really?" she snapped again, angry this time. "This was my favorite blouse! And now it's _ruined_!" She slammed the empty glass that was in her hand onto the table next to her. "I can't believe I did something so...so... _stupid_!" She gingerly pulled the wet, pale pink silk away from her chest and she bent forward slightly to examine the extent of the damage, her youthful features marred by a deep frown. "Aww, it's all over my skirt, too! Dammit!"

"Now, now, my dear, there's no need to be so hard on yourself," Jenkins chided her gently, "We all have 'juice malfunctions' now and again."

"But it's _cranberry_ juice, Jenkins!" she practically wailed. "That stuff stains like crazy, nothing gets it all the way out of your clothes!" The immortal gave her an amused look.

"No, do you know what doesn't come out of your clothes? The 'blessings' that a flock of phoenixes decides to shower upon you as they fly overhead, _that's_ what doesn't come out!" The Librarian couldn't help but smile at the look of utter disgust on her husband's face.

"Is that the bitter voice of experience I hear?" she asked, unable to resist teasing him a little. Jenkins merely sniffed, then walked over to the lab door and locked it.

"Let me have that," he instructed her. "I may know a trick or two that can save your favorite blouse." He began to unbutton the blouse while Cassandra pulled it out of her skirt. As he peeled the wet silk garment off of her body, he quietly caught his breath at the sight of her plump breasts, clad now only in a thin, lacy pink bra. It, too, was red-stained and wet with cranberry juice, and the cool air of the lab conspired with the spilled juice to bring her nipples to tantalizingly sharp points beneath the lace. Cassandra saw Jenkins staring at her, and, recognizing his expression, blushed. She dropped her gaze and bit her lower lip bashfully.

"Perhaps I should take that as well?" the immortal asked, his voice suddenly deeper and rougher as he dropped the blouse onto the table. Cassandra began to reach behind her back to unhook the bra, but he stopped her.

"Allow me." Jenkins wound his long arms around her slight body and quickly undid the bra. He slipped it from her shoulders and tossed it on top of the blouse. He could see that some of the juice had seeped all the way to her skin, and reached out a tentative finger to lightly touch the skin of her chest. It was slightly sticky.

"Perhaps I had better take care of this first," he murmured. Without waiting for an answer he leaned forward and brushed her skin with his tongue. She tasted of cranberries, tangy and sweet, and of something uniquely Cassandra that was heady and indescribable. Jenkins laid his large hands gently on her upper arms and began licking her skin slowly, dragging his warm, soft tongue over her breastbone, feeling her heart beat faster against it as he moved over her. A searing hotness flared into life in his belly and spread rapidly through his abdomen and groin.

"Oh!" sighed the Librarian breathlessly, sliding her hands onto her husband's broad back and moving them slowly up and down its length. "This took kind of an unexpected turn, didn't it?" Jenkins raised his head and kissed her. She could taste the cranberry juice on his lips and tongue as he ran his hands over her body, sending a shiver through her despite the warmth creeping into her own belly.

"Unexpected? Really?" he whispered when the kiss ended. He kissed her cheek and neck, pulling her close until his lips were over her ear. "After I explained to you about my dragon tattoo, you're surprised by the fact that I can't keep my hands off of you?" Cassandra laughed as he nibbled on the delicate skin of her neck.

" _Oh_ , so you're telling me that the dragon's blood mixed into the ink is rising, huh?" she said coquettishly, combing the fingers of one hand through his silver hair at the back of his neck. He pulled back from her so that he could see her face.

"Among _other_ things," he rumbled, rakishly waggling his thick eyebrows. She burst into laughter again, the laughs abruptly turning into cries of pleasure as he suddenly turned his attention to her breast, dropping his head to lick and suck on the nipple eagerly, teasing it into a stiff bud with the tip of his tongue. He switched to the other breast and did the same, enjoying the helpless moans he drew from his young wife.

As he teased her breast, his hands slid to unfasten the tiny flowered skirt she was still wearing. He roughly pushed it down, along with her panties. Dropping to his knees, he kissed his way down her stomach, licking and nipping the tender flesh as he went, laughing softly as she flinched and gasped with each nip, his hands cupping and squeezing her buttocks. He could feel his erection pressing hard against the inside of his trousers.

By the time he reached her sex Cassandra was dizzy with want. _God_ , how she loved him and everything about him! So much raw power, and yet he was always so gentle with her. Cassandra closed her eyes and smiled lazily as she felt him touching her. She didn't want his gentleness right now, though. Right now she wanted his power. Right now she wanted nothing more than for Jenkins to plunge himself into her, longed to feel his engorged manhood filling her, longed to feel him from within as he thrust into her. She wanted him to hear her scream his name as he pleasured her, wanted to feel his huge, strong hands all over her body, his musk filling her nose. She wanted to hear him ask her permission before he entered her, wanted to hear him panting and groaning over her, clutching and pulling that gorgeous silver hair as she succumbed to the orgasm he gave her.

Instead of his manhood, Jenkins plunged his greedy tongue into Cassandra's hot, wet folds. He lapped up her juices like a thirsty animal, pleased with the shouts of bliss coming from Cassandra's throat. He probed her, eagerly searching for the plump pearl of her clit, all the while massaging her buttocks and pulling her hips into him as he searched. At last he found it, and focused all of his attention and energies onto that spot. Cassandra instantly seized his hair with both hands, panting loudly and whimpering as he sucked on her as hard as he could without hurting her.

"Oh, _God_ , Jenkins!" she rasped, almost weeping with pleasure. "Please don't stop! Oh, God, _Jenkins_ , please don't stop!" She unconsciously pulled hard on his hair as she begged, and he almost came right then and there. With tremendous effort, he maintained control, however, and, smiling, he continued his onslaught. Suddenly she yanked on his hair again, _hard_ , and he grunted in surprise at the pain.

"I want you, Jenkins!" she cried. " _Please_! I need you, _now_!"

He scrambled immediately to his feet. Without saying a word he picked Cassandra up and laid her on the tabletop, moving her bottom to the very edge of the table. When she was in position, he stripped off his lab coat and dragged his suspenders over his shoulders. He unfastened his trousers and shoved them down with his underwear, finally freeing his aching erection. He paused for a moment and leaned over her, brushing his lips against hers, his warm breath caressing her face.

"May I?" he ground out, his eyes dark and feverish. Cassandra closed her eyes and smiled. _So much power, and all of it for her to command!_

"Yes!" she whispered.

Jenkins rose and grabbed her thighs. He jerked her forward, then rammed himself into her as hard as he could and began to ride her wildly. Cassandra's juice glass fell to the floor and shattered.

Cassandra whined at the sensation of his hard cock slamming into her over and over, but Jenkins gave a loud shout, almost a war-cry. The Librarian had the vague thought that she should be worried about someone hearing them, but she easily shoved the distracting thought away. Jenkins, with no other thought in his head except sharing pleasure with his beloved Cassandra, hammered into her, groaning loudly and grunting with each hard stroke. Mesmerized by her bouncing breasts, his strong hands held her in place by her thighs so tightly there were sure to be bruises later. Cassandra gripped his forearms with her hands and wrapped her legs around him, begging the immortal to fill her with every inch of his manhood.

Without warning Cassandra climaxed, crying out wordlessly with each exhale of air, her nails digging into his flesh through his shirtsleeves and arching her back sharply as he continued to pump into like a piston. Jenkins grinned like an idiot, primally proud of what he had just accomplished and relished the feel of her sex as it clutched at him.

A few strokes later and he was bellowing in his own release. He gave her one last hard thrust, then released his grip on her thighs to lean weakly against the tabletop, eyes shut and panting hard, enjoying the sensation of his manhood throbbing within Cassandra. After a few seconds he opened his eyes dazedly, then stood upright. While remaining inside of her, he pulled Cassandra up into a sitting position on the table and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his body and holding her there as they both continued the slow climb down from their post-coital highs.

As their breathing evened out and returned to normal, Jenkins began to affectionately nuzzle his wife's head and thread his long fingers into her silky red hair and grasped a handful of it. He pulled her head back gently so he could kiss her deeply, his tongue now playful and soft, and hers responded in kind.

"I love you, Cassandra," he whispered into her hair. "So very much."

"I love you, Galahad," she whispered back simply, burrowing into his arms. As they continued to hold each other quietly for several minutes, she slowly rubbed his back and the nape of his neck.

"I don't know about you, Jenkins, but I'm suddenly parched," she said quietly. "Wanna go get some cranberry juice with me?" She felt the low rumble of his laughter vibrate within his chest.

"You _enjoy_ playing with fire, don't you, woman?" he asked with mock consternation. Cassandra giggled as she snuggled against his chest. She slipped one small hand down between them and lightly grasped his testicles, causing him to grunt softly in surprise.

"Only with dragon fire," she stated firmly, giving him a little squeeze. Jenkins laughed again and hugged her tightly for a few seconds before letting her go and withdrawing from her.

"You're a wicked, insatiable little minx!" he growled roguishly as he pulled his trousers up and quickly tucked his shirttails back into them. After he fastened his trousers and replaced his suspenders, he picked up his lab coat and gallantly held it open for the Librarian.

"You'd better wear this until we can stop by our room and get you into some proper clothes again," he said. "Then I'll take you up on that offer of...'cranberry juice'." He flicked his eyes leeringly over her delightfully nubile body.

Cassandra slipped off of the table and into the proffered lab coat, wrapping the oversized garment tightly around herself. She turned and looked coyly up into her husband's face.

"Pretty sure of your recuperative powers, aren't you?" she challenged. "I mean, after all, we just had sex; I think I'm safe from you and your wanton dragon blood for the rest of today, at least." Jenkins arched his eyebrows knowingly as she passed him to go to the door of the lab.

"Ah, but you're forgetting one thing, my love," he said smoothly. "It's springtime—the primary mating season for dragons!"

" _Every_ season is the primary mating season for you, you horny thing!" she shot back over her shoulder.

In reply, Jenkins growled lustily deep in his throat and slapped her pretty little ass as he followed her through the door and into the hallway, Cassandra squeaking in surprise and giggling as she scurried ahead to place herself out of his reach.

But not _too_ far out of reach...


	27. Nigel

Jenkins trudged tiredly down to the second-level sub-basement—also known as the Xenobia Wing—of the Metropolitan Public Library. This was the aviary section of the Library, home to a vast and exotic collection of feathered, magical creatures, a place usually filled with unusually beautiful and exciting sights and sounds. But for the last seventy-two hours it had been a place of sadness and reflection for the immortal. He was on a death-watch; the bennu bird was at the end of his 500-year lifespan and was about to die.

The ancient Egyptian relative of the Greek phoenix, the bennu was a favorite of the old Caretaker. The bennu had been acquired by the Library during the period Jenkins was absent in the Sixteenth Century, during his 'mid-life crisis', and was waiting for him when he returned. He faithfully cared for the creature for several weeks before he decided it needed a name, and so he called it "Nigel".

The bennu was more sedate and regal in bearing than the noisy, showy phoenix. Over the centuries Jenkins had taken to talking to Nigel whenever he tended to him. It was just short comments at first, Jenkins more talking to himself than to the bennu. But gradually the comments grew into full-blown conversations, and Nigel became a confidant for the man in his lonely years of self-imposed exile from the world of men. The bird actually seemed to listen to him and to understand him, and Jenkins came to believe that Nigel communicated with him in return, albeit in sounds or movements rather than in words. He remembered one time especially, when he'd been feeling particularly depressed about his hopeless situation with Charlene, and the bennu had gently laid his large, iridescent blue-gray head on the Caretaker's shoulder as if to comfort him.

And now, at the end of his current life cycle, it was Nigel's time to die. He would regenerate himself, of course, but it was still a sad time for Jenkins. There was always the fear of 'what if?' in the back of his mind at times like this: What if Nigel regenerated, but didn't remember Jenkins? Or worse, what if Nigel _didn't_ regenerate this time at all? Even immortals have to die at some point in time. It would be a terrible blow to Jenkins to lose such an old and cherished friend as the bennu.

Jenkins had gone upstairs briefly only once, just to check in with everyone and to make sure there were no emergencies that had cropped up in his absence. Cassandra made him some tea and tried to get her husband to eat something, but he had no appetite. He didn't really _need_ food, anyway; he ate because he enjoyed the taste of food and the socializing that often took place around meals. He didn't even want the tea, really, but he drank a cup just to please and reassure his worried wife. As he prepared to return to his vigil, Cassandra gave him a tight hug and offered to come and sit with him, but he gently refused. Unlike him, she _needed_ to sleep every day; besides, he wasn't really in the mood for company during a time like this. He would need her comfort and company when it was all over, but right now he just wanted to be alone with Nigel.

Jenkins didn't know when exactly the bird would die, but he wanted to be there when it happened. He felt he owed that to his friend; no one should have to die alone, Jenkins believed, not even a magical creature that would regenerate itself anew. And so for the last three days, around the clock, as soon as he had seen the tell-tale signs, Jenkins sat with Nigel and waited. The bird had grown weaker and more listless with alarming rapidity, his plumage—once so vibrant and beautiful—was now dull, flat and crumbling into dust at the slightest touch, like the wing of a butterfly. He didn't even have the strength to sit on his perch or move under his own power anymore, and Jenkins had to move the bennu to the traditional 'deathbed' of bennus, a nest made of myrrh branches on the tabletop. The end couldn't be far off now.

Jenkins's still-sharp soldier's ear caught the faint sound of someone behind him. He turned around in his chair, but saw no one at the door. Deciding that his ears were only playing tricks on him, he turned back to the dying bird and his memories of the times they had shared.

Several minutes later, he again heard the sound behind him, a light scratching noise and the faint creaking of the door on its hinges. Before he could turn around to call out to whoever was there, he felt a featherlike touch on his leg. Startled, he looked down, and was surprised to see the normally rambunctious Franklin sitting quietly on the floor next to his armchair and looking up at him. The Caretaker could swear he saw concern in the little dragon's big black eyes.

"Franklin, you little scamp," he murmured quietly. "What are you doing here? This is no place for you." He stood and picked up the tea dragon from the floor, then headed for the door to put him out into the hallway. He closed the door to keep him out and sat down again to resume his vigil

A few minutes later, after the Caretaker had made himself comfortable, Franklin was suddenly in his lap, causing the large man to yelp in fright.

"Franklin! How on earth…?" he exclaimed, turning to look at the door to the room. It was still closed, but Jenkins now noticed the large crack of light between the floor and the bottom of the door. It certainly would've been a tight fit, but he deduced that the determined little dragon had managed to somehow squeeze himself beneath the door. He looked back at the animal in his lap and was about to put him out of the room again when Franklin stood up, balancing himself carefully on the man's thighs. Resting his paws on Jenkins's broad chest, the tea dragon stretched his serpentine neck out and, with an almost silent sigh, gently laid his head on Jenkins's shoulder—just as Nigel had done numerous times whenever he thought the Caretaker needed some solace.

Jenkins sat back in the chair, tears suddenly in his eyes. He realized that not only did he need some comforting right now, he _wanted_ it. Somehow this little creature had understood that better than the man himself did, and had come to him. The immortal fought back his tears as he laid one large hand on Franklin back and began to pet him slowly. Franklin immediately snuggled into his neck, trilling softly. Jenkins now wished he had let Cassandra come with him; he could really use a hug from her right now, too. He shook his head wryly at himself. He'd been alone for so long that he was used to dealing with the hard things in this life all on his own. Having a partner—a wife, a friend, a confidant like Cassandra who could share these experiences with him—he was still getting used to that.

Suddenly, Nigel uttered a weak cry, and as Jenkins watched forlornly, thin wisps of gray-white smoke began to stream from the bennu's worn-out body. The wisps thickened and grew darker with each passing second, until there was a sudden, brilliant flash of pale yellow flame that caused Jenkins to involuntarily gasp and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, Nigel was gone, nothing but a pile of dark gray ash left in his place.

The Caretaker dropped his head for a moment, one hand rubbing his tired, watery eyes as he swallowed against the hard lump in his throat, his other arm unconsciously tightening a bit around Franklin's long, warm body.

"Jenkins?" a small voice called tentatively from behind him.

When he turned he was surprised to see Cassandra in the doorway, dressed in her nightclothes. He smiled wanly in relief at the sight of her. He automatically put on a brave face as the young woman uncertainly approached her husband's side. She put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a light hug as Franklin quietly jumped down from the man's lap.

"I got here just in time to see; I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she said, her voice full of sad sympathy. Jenkins dropped his gaze and heaved a deep sigh. He couldn't stop his lower lip from quivering, and the next thing he knew, the old knight was sliding his arms around Cassandra's small body and pulling her close, burying his face in her robe as he surrendered to his grief and the stress of the last three days. Cassandra slid onto his lap and held Jenkins against her, tears of sympathy welling up in her blue eyes as his brave front crumbled into sobs. She slowly ran her fingers through his silver hair, murmuring soft words of comfort until he cried himself out.

"Thank you, Cassandra," he said, his voice rough and sad. He dug his handkerchief from his coat and quickly wiped his eyes and nose, then leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"I'm so glad you're here; I was regretting not letting you come with me earlier when you wanted to," he murmured into her hair. His young wife hugged him again, tightly this time, and kissed his cool, damp cheek.

"Actually, you have Franklin to thank for that," she replied. "He came to the bedroom and scratched on the door, making this sad, pathetic little sound, like he was crying. I've ever heard that before. He wouldn't stop until I got up and began to follow him; he led me here." She gently pulled the Caretaker's head down to rest on her chest.

"I'm sorry, Jenkins," Cassandra repeated, almost whispering. "I know how much Nigel meant to you." She couldn't help but smile to herself at the staid, serious name the immortal had chosen for the exotic creature. Jenkins heaved another deep sigh and raised his head.

"He was a good friend to me, I've always treasured his companionship," he said. He looked over at the pile of flat, gray ash, just as Franklin leaped up onto the table and began to investigate Nigel's nest. The small green dragon eyed the ashes curiously for a few moments, then began to delicately dig into them with one paw, sniffing intently. He sneezed violently, scattering the fine, oily dust in a large cloud.

"Franklin!" Jenkins snapped angrily, nearly sending Cassandra tumbling to the floor as he jumped up from his chair. "Stop that! Get down from there this instant!"

The dragon crouched low beside the nest, a low growling whine in his throat as he stared wide-eyed up at the large man, but Franklin refused to budge. When Jenkins came closer to try and remove the obstinate beast, the little reptile turned back to the ash pile and stretched his paw out, gently laying it in the incinerated remains of the old bennu.

Jenkins's eyes flicked instinctively to the tiny paw, then did a double-take. He bent low over the table, his brown eyes widening as he spied a tiny, worm-like creature, barely longer than a grain of rice, struggling in the dust. He popped upright again and reached across the table toward the anxiously watching Librarian.

"Cassandra! My handkerchief—quickly!" he ordered briskly. The young woman instantly scooped the damp cloth from the floor and handed it to him. Jenkins spread it out in the palm of one large hand, then gingerly grasped the miniscule worm between the finger and thumb of his other hand, lifting it from the ashes and delicately depositing it onto the handkerchief.

"Jenkins, what is it?" Cassandra asked fearfully. The little worm was squirming weakly; it looked like it was dying. Jenkins carried it over to another table he had prepared earlier, when Nigel's end was apparent. The table bore a small ancient Egyptian offering altar, covered with offerings of foodstuffs and lotus blossoms. On top of the altar was another nest, a messy conglomeration of twigs from a myrrh tree. Next to the nest was a tall object covered by a heavy cloth. He delicately moved the worm to the nest.

"Cassandra!" he barked tersely as he quickly lit incense. "Listen carefully to me! Underneath that cloth is a stand holding a sun-stone. Please put your hand on that cloth, then turn your head away, shut your eyes tightly and cover them with your other hand. When I give you the word, pull the cloth from the stand! But _only_ when I give the word!" Hearing the urgency in his voice, Cassandra simply nodded and did as he instructed.

Jenkins first sprinkled the altar with water from the Nile, then waved the incense over the nest with careful, deliberate gestures. He then set the incense down and raised both hands in front of himself, palms facing outward. He took a deep breath, and began to intone a chanted prayer.

 _I came into being from unformed matter, I came into existence like the god, Khepera, I have germinated like the plants, and I have dressed myself in radiance of the goddess, Nut. I am the bennu, pure as bone. I know the stirrings of the Nile, the source where the water rises overlapped by trees, where the ibises dip and wade, where the fish are plentiful! I fly beneath an arch of trees and directly into the Eye of Heaven! I make a long journey amid mud houses, singing! I know the cool mind of the sky as well as the hot mysteries of the earth! I am the bennu, the Messenger, a reborn and dying god! By day I exist because I exist! By night, I sail above the River, a single Star, wise in the Darkness!_

Jenkins slipped on a pair of goggles, the thick lenses black and opaque. He stooped and snatched Franklin up from the floor, stuffing the surprised and squealing animal into his coat. He made sure that the dragon's head was safely covered, then turned his back to the altar.

"Now, Cassandra!" The Librarian jerked the heavy cloth away with a grunt. She immediately felt intense warmth on her skin, burning almost too hotly for her to bear. With a cry she moved as far away as she could from the searing heat, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, her heart pounding in fear.

"Jenkins, what is that?!" she shouted.

"Keep your eyes _shut_ , Cassandra!" he called back to her. His back still to the altar, the Caretaker slowly cracked his eyes open. The brilliant light nearly blinded him, even with the protective goggles, and tears began to form in response to its brightness. He shaded his eyes with one hand while keeping his suit coat snugly closed over the squirming tea dragon, and turned to look into the nest of myrrh twigs. The tiny worm had stopped moving and was now standing on its tail-end. The fierce light suddenly dimmed and cooled as the worm began to glow, a transparent, golden ball of light forming around it. The worm began to absorb the light of the sun-stone, soaking it up like a dry sponge soaking up water. As it took in the sunlight, the worm, originally a dirty, waxy beige in color, gradually became a dazzling, shining white within its golden ball of shimmering light. It remained standing on its end, motionless, facing the sun-stone, steadily absorbing every joule of light it produced.

Dropping his head and heaving a huge sigh of relief, Jenkins turned to look for Cassandra. She was across the room, bent over nearly double with her back to him, her arms wrapped over her head. He quickly crossed the floor and laid a hand on her back, causing her to jump and yell sharply.

"It's all right, my dear," he said soothingly. "Everything is fine. Keep your eyes closed; give me your hand and I'll lead you out. I'll explain everything when we're out in the corridor." The Librarian held out a trembling hand and he took it, carefully guiding her as she stumbled slightly out of the room and into the hallway. As soon as the door was closed, Jenkins told her to open her eyes. She blinked several times as they adjusted to the relative darkness of the hallway.

"Jenkins, _what_ just happened?" she asked the tall man. He opened his coat and pulled Franklin out. The frightened tea dragon immediately began clamoring to be turned loose. As soon as Jenkins let go of him, Franklin shot up the immortal's long arm and wrapped himself around the old Caretaker's neck like a scarf.

"We almost lost Nigel," he said, looking down at her, patting Franklin's head to reassure him. "That tiny creature that I pulled from the ashes was his next incarnation, in its embryonic form, of course. It shouldn't have manifested so deeply within the ashes of its previous incarnation, but sometimes that happens. Rather like a 'breech birth' in humans." He began to affectionately scratch Franklin behind one of his ears.

"And I owe this fine little fellow an abject apology! He could smell the new bennu, even through all of that ash and tried to alert me. On my own I probably wouldn't have found it in time and Nigel would've died." He looked back at Cassandra.

"A bennu is a solar creature, entirely dependent upon the sun's energy for life. A newly regenerated bennu must be placed in full daylight within minutes of its rebirth, otherwise it weakens and dies, never to be born again. By the time Nigel showed signs of dying, he was too fragile to carry to the upper levels of the Library that had exposure to the sun, like the Solarium, so I brought the sun-stone down here. It's not ideal, but at least it will buy some time, allow him to strengthen enough for a journey to the upper levels where he can have full, unrestricted exposure to sunlight. As he grows he'll eventually begin to look more bird-like and develop a personality."

"If he needs sunlight to live, shouldn't the aviary be on one of the upper levels, then?" Cassandra asked, perplexed. Jenkins sighed again.

"It was," he said sourly. "Until the Library was cut loose from this world and then recovered, rooms jumbled. The Xenobia Wing _was_ one of the upper levels. I'll have to make arrangements, now, for new living quarters for Nigel and the other solar-dependent creatures, I think. I should've done that a long time ago. This was a bit too close a call for my liking!" Cassandra smiled and linked her arm with his. She began walking and he followed her lead.

"And what, exactly, is a sun-stone?" she asked. Jenkins turned his head to her and frowned.

"I should think that's rather self-explanatory," he rumbled. "A sun-stone is exactly that—a piece of the sun." Cassandra halted and stared up at her husband.

"Wait, _what_?" she yelped. "What do you mean, 'a piece of the sun'? You mean, _the_ sun? _Our_ sun? How...?" Jenkins cocked his head, looking askance.

"Really, Cassandra," he said, his tone chiding. "You've worked in the Library for how long now, and you _still_ have to ask questions like that? Have you learned _nothing_ from me in all this time?" He shook his silver head in mock disapproval. Cassandra giggled and continued walking.

"I don't know about you, sweetie, but I'm too keyed up now to go back to bed," she said brightly. "How about joining me for a nice cup of chamomile tea in the kitchen, and you can educate me?"

Now it was Jenkins's turn to stop. He unwound Franklin from his neck and lightly dropped the dragon onto the floor, the little animal scampering off down the hallway in search of Cal now that all of the excitement was over. Jenkins then moved close to Cassandra, taking her into his arms. He bent down and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers.

"I think I'd much rather take you back to our bedroom and...'educate' you there," he purred. Cassandra smiled as he began to nuzzle her cheek and ear, his warm breath tickling her.

"I suppose a girl can never get too much 'education', huh?" she murmured back, sliding her arms around him. "Especially with such an passionate and thorough instructor!" Jenkins pulled back from her just enough to kiss her again, then he lifted his head and waggled his eyebrows.

"It helps when one has such an enthusiastic and talented pupil," he replied saucily, causing her to laugh again as she playfully swatted his behind.

"You're awful!" she said.

"Awfully in love with you," he answered earnestly, then kissed her again before eagerly leading her back to their suite.


	28. Closet Raider (A Drabble)

Cassandra smiled at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing room as she made some final adjustments to the outfit she'd put together this morning. She _loved_ playing with colors, patterns, fabrics and accessories; to her, clothes were sort of like finger paint that she could wear.

She walked into the bedroom to meet Jenkins for breakfast. Already dressed and waiting for her, he turned and smiled as his gaze took her in. He started to speak, then blinked and stared at her in bafflement for a moment.

"Are those… _my_ suspenders?" he squawked incredulously. "And my _favorite_ bowtie!?"

"Yeppers!"

 **A/N: Sorry this is so short, but I just had to get it out of my brain before it drove me crazy!**


	29. That Time of Year

"'Scuse me, sir? Would you like to buy a box of Girl Scout cookies?"

The tall, silver-haired man wearing a crisp dove-gray suit and a blue, paisley-patterned bow tie turned around. He saw a long folding table set up just inside the main entrance to Costco, piled high with brightly-colored boxes. Standing in front of the table was a young, Mexican-American girl of about twelve years, wearing khaki trousers and a plain white t-shirt. Across her chest was a sash festooned with dozens of small round patches denoting, he assumed, achievements of some sort. She wore a bright red down jacket over the top of everything against the chilly winter air. There was another similarly-dressed girl standing behind the table, this one with short sandy hair and green eyes.

Jenkins frowned at the girl who had spoken to him.

"I beg your pardon?" he rumbled, irritated, and adjusted his grip on the heavy bags he was holding while he took a quick look outside. _Where_ was Cassandra? She and the station wagon were supposed to be waiting to pick him up as soon he came out of the store. This was his first solo foray into the big-box store, and while it had been a little nerve-racking at first for the normally cloistered immortal, things had gone surprisingly smoothly overall. Well, at least they had until _now_. _Now_ he was being accosted by this little huckster who had some kind of illicit vending booth set up right at the entrance of the store. She hadn't been there earlier when he had arrived, and there was no way to avoid her.

"Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies? We have all the flavors!" the girl repeated proudly. "Only five dollars a box!" Jenkins's eyes widened.

" _Five dollars_?!" he demanded, shocked at the price she quoted. "For _one_ _box_?!" He cast a baleful eye at the stacks of small boxes on the table. "That's a ridiculous sum of money for a box that size!" Perhaps he should report these little ragamuffins to the store's management.

"But they're _really_ good cookies, sir," the Scout continued, undaunted. "And the money helps to support the Scouts!" She turned and picked up an open green box.

"Would you like to try a sample?" The shrewd girl pulled a plastic sleeve of dark, chocolate-covered cookies from the box and held it out to him, her dark brown eyes sparkling. She'd been in the Scouts long enough and had been through enough cookie sales to know a sucker for sweets when she saw one, and this guy had "sale" written all over him. "These are the Thin Mints—they're _really_ good!"

Jenkins peered uncertainly at the sleeve of cookies, until his nose caught the enchanting odor of chocolate and mint; his mouth instantly began to water.

"Well, I suppose one _small_ sample wouldn't hurt," he said warily, setting one bag on the ground. He reached out and took one of the proffered cookies, then took a small bite. The flavors of cacao and mint spread over his tongue as he munched on the crispy chocolate cookie hidden inside the equally-dark chocolate coating. He immediately popped the rest into his mouth.

"Oh! That _is_ good!" he said, trying not to sound too eager. He leaned over to one side so that he could see the other colorful boxes on the table behind her. "You said you had _all_ of the flavors…?" The Girl Scout stood aside to afford him a better view, hiding the smile of triumph that she flashed her partner. The other girl nodded ever so slightly.

"Yep!" the first Scout said cheerily, mentally tallying how many boxes this guy might be good for. She guessed four. She picked up another open box, this one bright purple. "Here, try one of these—they're called Samoas. They're cookies covered with chocolate, caramel and coconut!" She held out another sample.

Jenkins took the small cookie, this time popping the whole thing into his mouth. Caramel, chocolate and the warm taste of toasted coconut exploded in his mouth.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" he enthused, forgetting that he was supposed to be annoyed. "What others do you have?" The savvy young businesswoman described in detail all the various flavors that were available, providing him with a sample of each cookie. The last one was a lemon-flavored shortbread cookie, shaped like a fat crescent moon and lightly dusted with lemony powdered sugar.

Jenkins took the sample and greedily bit into it. A lovely, sharp, lemon taste danced on his tongue, perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the sugar. He stopped chewing and closed his eyes as he sighed deeply, a huge smile of contentment spreading across his face. Jenkins loved lemon-flavored things.

"Those are _divine_!" he breathed. He opened his eyes and looked down at the grinning girl.

"Those are called Savannah Smiles," she said perkily. She was beginning to think that this old dude might even go as high as six or seven boxes now.

Jenkins devoured the rest of the sample. He thought of how nicely these lovely little lemon cookies would go with a hot cup of tea. A hot cup of tea, and his darling Cassandra. Perhaps shared on a stormy afternoon in their secret 'love nest' in the upper attic of the Library? For some inexplicable reason, he suddenly imagined sharing some of the cookies with Cassandra, imagined the exquisite delight of tasting that lemony sweetness on his beautiful wife's lips and tongue as he passionately kissed her, his hand on one of her wonderfully plump breasts and squeezing it _just_ enough make her whimper softly with pleasure…

"I'll take every box of cookies that you have!" he blurted, his voice low and rough, his brown eyes boring into the Scout's.

"Wh-what?" the Girl Scout asked, startled. "But…mister, that's like… _fifty boxes_ …"

"I'll take them!" Jenkins reiterated, and stooped to set the rest of his bags down on the pavement. He began digging into his jacket pocket for his wallet. The Scout gaped in disbelief.

"But…that's gonna be like two hundred and fifty dollars!" she gasped, her eyes wide. Jenkins opened his wallet and looked at her.

"I presume that cash is acceptable?" he said. Both girls' mouths dropped open.

"Y-yeah!" the Scout answered, stunned as the old man handed her two crisp hundred-dollar bills and one fifty dollar bill. She whirled around and signaled to her partner, and together the two girls scrambled to box up the cookies he wanted, _now_ , before he changed his mind.

* * *

Cassandra slowly drove the huge station wagon along the front of Costco in search of Jenkins, waving cheerfully at the two Girl Scouts that she could see through the large plate-glass windows as they took down a folding table. She felt a slight twinge of envy as she went by them; she'd always wanted to be a Girl Scout herself, but her parents wouldn't let her. It would've been too much of a distraction from her STEM studies.

Several yards further along, she spotted Jenkins, standing patiently off by himself and waiting for her, a huge, silly grin on his face. She pulled up in front of him, put the car in park and looked through the passenger side window, her normally smooth brow furrowed in puzzlement. Jenkins had his hands full with two large shopping bags, as she was expecting—what she was _not_ expecting were the four huge boxes full of individual multicolored boxes of Girl Scout cookies. She remembered the Scouts she'd just passed, rolled her eyes as she put two and two together and groaned.

"Oh, _Jenkins_ , what have you done?" she called after rolling down the window. His grin only widened as he bent over to answer.

"I've been shopping!" he said brightly. The happiness on his face quickly drove away her irritation.

"So I see!" she laughed. "I didn't know that cookies were on your shopping list, though!" Cassandra got out of the car, walked around to his side and opened up the rear passenger door, eyeing the boxes full of cookies. "So how many boxes, exactly, did they talk you into?"

"Fifty," he said, somewhat proudly, and began loading a box into the station wagon.

" _Fifty?"_ she yelped. Jenkins nodded.

"Fifty!"

"Wow, looks like you got a little of everything!" Cassandra said, noticing that he had at least a handful of boxes of each kind of cookie. She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. "I've heard of people buying Girl Scout cookies in bulk and then freezing them so they can have them throughout the year until they go on sale again the next year, but…"

Jenkins shot upright and stared down at her, his face slightly panicked.

"What do you mean 'until they go on sale again next year'?!" he demanded. Cassandra gave him a perplexed look.

"I _mean_ , until they go on sale again _next_ year," she repeated slowly, then it dawned on her. Her expression became one of sympathy. "Aw, Jenkins, sweetie—don't you know that the Girl Scouts only sell these cookies once a year? It's a fundraiser, and a teaching tool to help the girls understand how business and finances work. They only sell them for a few weeks each winter."

" _What_?!" he squawked, unpleasantly surprised. "But… That's… _No_!" His broad shoulders slumped in disappointment. Cassandra reached out and took his hand.

"I know, sweetheart; _everyone_ feels that way when they first find that out," she soothed. "But on the plus side, you've got plenty of cookies here to see you through till next year!" Jenkins squared his shoulders again.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," he agreed, slightly consoled. "If we ration them carefully, limit ourselves to just one box per week, we should be okay until next year's sales begin. Though once they find out about them, I suppose we'll have to share with the others, too, so maybe ration ourselves to one box every other week or so..." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Ah, well. The plans of mice and men…"

"What's that mean?" Cassandra asked, frowning slightly. Jenkins paused for a second, then looked around to make sure they were alone. He bent down to whisper into her ear, quickly sharing with her the naughty fantasy he'd had of her, the cookies, and their "love nest". Cassandra's blue eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink as he continued to whisper, elaborating on his little daydream. A grin almost as wide and silly as her husband's came to her face. She stared pointedly into his eyes, her crystal blue ones glowing with a very familiar light.

"Let's go!" she ordered him, her voice low and husky. As soon as he realized what she was saying, Jenkins nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to grab another of the large boxes and hurriedly shove it into the car. Before he placed the last box into the backseat with the others, Cassandra plucked a bright yellow box of Savannah Smiles from it.

She handed him the car keys, then they climbed into the vintage Roadmaster and buckled themselves in. Cassandra reached out and laid a hand on Jenkins's arm before he could turn the engine on. Without a word, she quickly opened the box of cookies, reached inside and pulled one out.

"Open!" she commanded, and Jenkins obligingly opened his mouth. She popped the lemony treat inside, then ate one herself— _after_ teasingly licking the powdered sugar from the cookie and then from her lips, all the while staring her husband boldly in the eye. Cassandra reached into the box and pulled out another cookie. Thinking it was for him, Jenkins opened his mouth again and leaned forward expectantly, but the redhead only wagged a chiding finger at him. She made sure Jenkins was watching, then very slowly and deliberately slipped the cookie beneath her top and hid it in her cleavage.

"You can have _this_ one when we get back to the Annex," she purred, and closed the box.

Jenkins's hand grabbed frantically for the ignition switch. He turned the key, threw the car into 'drive' and stomped on the gas pedal, all in one smooth, fluid motion. The tires squealed loudly as Jenkins gunned the engine and the huge vehicle lurched forward. Cassandra laughed and warned him to be careful as they sped through parking lot. Jenkins only smiled grimly in response as he struggled to keep his attention on the road, and _not_ on how wonderful it was going to be to lick the lemon-flavored powdered sugar off of his wife's scrumptious breasts the second they got home.


	30. Sunrise

**Fic writer Multi-Fandom-Shipper-20 gifted me with a partial Casskins fic that she was unable to finish and entrusted me with the task. This is the result. I hope I've proven myself worthy of her trust!**

Cassandra tip-toed carefully through the Annex workroom, making her way slowly through the large room so as not to slosh any of the freshly-made coffee from the huge stoneware mug in her hands. Jacob Stone and Ezekiel Jones were a tangle of arms, legs and bedding on a large air mattress set up on the floor in front of the long table in the middle of the room. Curled up in a snug ball of their own with the two men were Thistle, their adopted bujanga, and Franklin, Jenkins's adopted tea dragon, the two magical creatures snoring contentedly. The Librarian grinned at the sight as she made her way in stockinged feet to the corridor leading to the Annex's front entrance.

A cool breeze was soon passing through the Library from its open front door. The wide-awake redheaded Librarian was propped against the door's steel frame, dressed in one of her husband's too-large dress shirts, its pale yellow tails falling just below her knees, its impossibly long sleeves rolled up almost to her elbows. The large mug of steaming coffee was cradled in her hands, its warm, comforting aroma delighting her nose every time she took a sip.

Letting a happy sigh slip past her lips, she set the mug on a small folding table nearby before going to the tiny utility closet, located right next to the door, and pulling out a camping chair. She arranged it next to the table already set up on the concrete pad in front of the door, then swept up the mug of coffee, clutching it tightly in both hands again as she made herself comfortable in the camping chair, tucking her bare legs beneath her for warmth.

A few moments passed by in blessed quiet as she watched the sun slowly rise through the trees and listened to the furiously singing birds as they roused themselves from sleep to begin another day. Such peace was a true luxury around the Library these days; they'd been slammed with a rapid succession of difficult missions over the last few weeks, and the entire team was exhausted. Things had gotten so hectic that everyone had taken to sleeping over in the Library for the time being. Thankfully, it had been pretty calm the last couple of days, and she was _finally_ getting the sleep she needed. Still, she loved this time of day, when everything was fresh and new and clean, and so full of promise. She couldn't always resist its allure as it pulled her from her warm bed before even Jenkins was awake.

"You're going to catch a chill if you insist on being out here half naked all the time." Cassandra smiled to herself as the sleepy, grumbling voice of her husband chastised the Librarian. She twisted around in her chair and found him standing in the doorway, bundled up in pajamas, robe and slippers. Folded over his arm was her own robe, which he now held out to her. While she draped the fuzzy pink garment over her shoulders, he turned and grabbed another camping chair from the closet. She smiled up at him as he set up the chair next to hers and dropped heavily into it.

"That's why I like to sit right here, so that the sun can keep me warm as it's rising," she said as she held out her mug of coffee to him. Without hesitation, he took the mug from her hands and quickly took a large swig of the still-hot liquid. Cassandra burst into laughter as he made a sour face of disgust. He turned his head and spat the coffee out, then handed the mug back to his giggling wife.

" _Ugh_! Coffee!"

"Sorry, sweetie," she said, amusement dancing in her light blue eyes. "Guess I should've warned you it was coffee and not tea!"

"Agreed!" he sniffed irritably and crossed his long, pajama-clad legs. The young woman got up out of her chair just enough to lean over and give her grumpy spouse an ameliorating kiss on his cool cheek.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yes, well…I suppose it'll _have_ to do for now," he groused, but he couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The pair settled back into companionable silence. As much as she loved watching the sun rise alone, Cassandra loved mornings even more when she and Jenkins were up and able to spend some time alone at the beginning of the day, before anyone arrived at the Annex. She loved being alone with him at any time, but there was something special about beginning a day together, sharing their thoughts and ideas, dreams they'd had during the night and plans for the coming day, or even just sitting together quietly, holding hands. Carving out time just for them, even if it was only fifteen or twenty minutes every day, watching the sun rise or having a cup of tea together, was something that helped to strengthen their relationship while dating, and what continued to strengthen their marriage now.

"I suppose we should wake the others at some point," her husband eventually sighed with resignation.

"They'll be awake soon enough. I set an alarm for them all before I went to bed last night," she hummed, almost smug. She set her mug on the table next to her, then tried to wrap one of Jenkins's large hands in her own smaller one. Looking out at the rapidly brightening sky as it changed from a dull rose-gold to a brilliant yellow, the young Librarian distractedly began tracing patterns in the palm of her husband's calloused hand.

Suddenly, from the corridor behind them, the silence was shattered by the sharp, shrill whooping of the alarm that Cassandra had set. The screeching of the alarm was quickly followed by the startled yelps of Stone and Jones as they were roughly jerked from their slumber, and the Librarian and the immortal chuckled to themselves. Jenkins stopped laughing, however, the moment he heard the terrified shrieks and squeals of a bujanga and a tea dragon.

" _Goddamit_!" shouted Jacob, his voice rough with sleep. "It's six-thirty in the goddamn morning! Who the fuck set a goddamn alarm to go off at six-fuckin'-thirty in the motherfuckin' mornin'?!"

"Hey, don't look at me, mate!" yelled Ezekiel over the racket. "I don't even _think_ about getting up before ten on workdays!" There was loud crash as many somethings fell over onto the wooden flooring of the workroom.

" _SONOFABITCH!"_

Jenkins winced at the profanity as Cassandra's red head whipped around to look at him, her eyes wide with misgiving; perhaps the alarm hadn't been such a good idea after all. Jenkins smiled over at her reassuringly, curled his long fingers around her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. They then heard the voice of Eve Baird cutting through the din in the workroom like a foghorn.

"Okayokayokay _OKAY_! What the _hell_ is going on in here? What's that alarm? It's not the perimeter alarm; where's it coming from!?"

"How the hell should _I_ know?!" bellowed Stone.

"OI! Will you two stop bitching at each other and get Thistle off of me?!" shouted Ezekiel. "She's got her bloody claws digging into my leg all the way to the bone!"

"It sounds as though the children are finally up, my love," he commented blithely. "Shall we go and restore order before Colonel Baird starts shooting something?"

"Or some _one_!" the Librarian said, scrambling to her feet, quickly folding up her chair and grabbing the coffee mug from the table. Jenkins lazily stood up and reached out to take the camping chair from his wife's hand.

"I'll take care of these," he said. "You'd better get in there and try to diffuse the situation before Franklin or Thistle is injured in the melee."

"What about the others?" she smirked. "Aren't you worried about any of _them_ getting hurt?"

"Librarians and Guardians are a dime a dozen," he informed her archly before lowering his head to peer at her through slitted eyes. "But _magical_ creatures are irreplaceable!" To his surprise, Cassandra merely shrugged her shoulders and grinned up at him.

"Whatever you say, _osito_!" she chirped, using the Spanish word for 'teddy bear' that she'd recently learned from her vampire friend, Estrella. Jenkins gave her a dramatic, offended glare and quickly leaned forward, stretching his hand out towards her, but Cassandra nimbly danced away, laughing, before he could swat her rear end. She turned and blew him a kiss.

"I love you, _osito_!" she teased, using her high-pitched "Sugar Rose" voice, but he could clearly see the truth of her declaration in her eyes. "You might scare the others, but you're my great big cuddly teddy bear!"

"And I love you, you wicked little minx!" he rumbled adoringly.

Another loud crash, followed by more cursing, drifted out from the workroom. A shrill screeching, independent of the still-wailing alarm, could be heard, growing louder and louder with each second. Suddenly, Franklin rounded the turn in the corridor, tiny claws scratching wildly against the concrete. The moment he spotted Jenkins, the little dragon shot straight toward him like a pale green arrow. He leaped up and landed in the middle of the Caretaker's chest, legs splayed out like a starfish, his claws sinking deep into the thick, soft fabric of Jenkins's robe. The immortal staggered back a couple of steps, dropping the folding chair as he automatically reached up to hold onto the shivering animal. Franklin buried his long snout into Jenkins's armpit, whimpering pathetically.

"There, there, my fine little fellow!" Jenkins cooed to the frightened dragon as he cuddled Franklin. "I'm here, now, little one, you're safe! Did those barbaric Librarians scare you with their loud voices and odious language?" He looked up at his wife.

"Would you please take care of the chairs, after all, my dear?" he asked, and started stalking for the doorway. "I think _I_ need to be the one to break up this little hullabaloo."

"You be nice, now!" she urged worriedly. "It's all my fault, remember, I'm the one who set the alarm!" Jenkins turned and looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don't worry, my love," he said. "I _am_ , after all, just a great big cuddly teddy bear in reality, remember?"

"You're a great big cuddly _smartass_!" she shot back mockingly, and darted forward. She was just able to slap her husband's rear end before he hurried away and disappeared down the corridor, laughing.

 **Thus ends Volume 1 of the Casskins Pillowbook. This volume is beginning to become a bit unwieldy, so I've decided that, starting with the next Casskins Pillowbook fic, I will create a new volume and make this a series of volumes, just in case anyone wants to update/add any bookmarks/subscriptions. I apologize for the hassle that causes, I never expected to have so many fic ideas for this one!**


End file.
